#•hope its okay! i hope i did this au justice•

[wanderingpages]

idk if you do requests outside of jurdan but its been in my head like tattoo artist Rowan and receptionist Aelin? and dating? and like...smut? ahhh thank you bye

∞

Rowan frowns when he sees her, sitting on the step just to the side of his shop. It’s been raining on and off all weekend, only now subsiding to a foggy mist, turning the small town as gray as Rowan’s reluctant to admit he’s been feeling. Aelin is under an awning, so she isn’t quite wet, but the damp strands of her hair is enough to let him know she’s at least ran through a sudden downpour from her car to where she’s currently at. She perks when he approaches, squinting but the pretty gem like hues in her eyes are still breath taking to him. She’s grinning wide and it breaks something in him, something he hates to even acknowledge he’s built up over the past few days. Aelin stands, bouncing from her tip toes as he nears her. Even heightened by the step, he still towers over her. She doesn’t mind tilting her head up, though.

“Hi,” She says.

His lip tilts upward, “Hi,” he responds. She takes a step to the side, and he reaches behind her to open the door. He gestures her first, letting her lead the way up the steps, to his apartment. Her shorts are high waisted, and he’d always tease her about her pairing it with oversized sweaters, much like she’s wearing today, because it made no sense to him - to be only partially warm. He does not point out the goosebumps on her legs, knowing he’d only get a narrowed eye response instead.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” She murmurs, ruffling her hair a bit. “Wasn’t sure if you’d answer, with your appointment today.” As his front receptionist, Aelin is well versed in all the clients booked for months in advance, so he’s not surprised that she knows he had an eight hour session, inking a regular customer of his. She probably also knows he should feel absolutely drained right now -  barely managing to remember to buy food before returning home - but he’s not. Rowan is absolutely zinging with unchecked energy.

It probably started the day she walked into his shop to answer an ad the previous receptionist had posted. Sparked when she’d ask him to pierce her not long after. Maybe it snowballed with her opting to stay behind after hours, using the break room for her class assignments, quietly keeping him company when sessions had flown well into odd hours. It definitely ignited when she’d kissed him goodnight on a whim, running off to her car before he’d even gotten the chance to comment.

It's been kindling when he’d gotten her chocolate during his lunch break one day and then every day after. When she'd left him a note the next day. When he had invited her up for dinner, when he had dropped her off to class the morning after, picked her up some time in the afternoon. When he thought it was cute when she eyed the women who get inked by him, flustered him when he felt jealous over a guy flirting with her.

They hadn’t been shouting it from rooftops. In fact, if Rowan’s honest with himself,  he’d been the one to keeping it under the radar – he’d felt bad enough because of the age gap, but to add the fact he’s her boss as well? Yet, roles applied still didn’t mean Aelin did not have complete control over him, mind body and soul. It took him a while to accept it, but he was all hers.

He just finds himself wondering if she was all his, too.

She reaches up to the ledge above the door, finding the spare key he’d shown her some time ago, and easily opens the door, jiggling the knob just right and giving it a quick kick after turning the key twice. She holds it wide open for him, toeing off her soaked kicks as he enters. He sets the food on the counter, before working on his boots and tugging off his hoodie.

“Were you waiting long?” She leans against the shut door, watching him undress like she hasn’t seen it more than a few times before, still it reddens her cheeks, despite the utter conservativeness of it all. She bites on her lip like she’s waiting for a show and he can’t help the small chuckle he lets out.

She shakes her head, coming back to the moment. “No." She shrugs as if its any consolation for her wait, "I missed you,” she smiles at him, almost shyly. It had been some time since they’d last been able to speak to each other properly. Despite her spending most nights with him, she had requested a few days off of work for finals, and he was at that point of the year where all him and his artists were booked until the end of summer. Still, he’d manage to find a few hours, and eager as he was to finally just be with her, Aelin had turned him down. He’d been too late, apparently, she’d already made plans. He frowns, trying not to think about it, hating the way it makes him feel, if he’s to be honest with himself.

“Missed you too,” he lets her know, heading to the cupboards to grab some plates. He divides the food, half for him and half for her, while she takes a seat at the table, tucking her cold toes beneath her. They talk idly, comfortably, touching when they can – hands, shoulders, knees. They seem to only gravitate closer to each other, stealing from the other’s plate, talking lower to have their heads meet in the middle, leaning closer to steal quick kisses – it’s all very domestic, so then why is Rowan feeling so goddamn feral?

They’ve managed to move to the couch, he’s leaned back watching a game he can’t quite say who’s winning or what sport it even is and Aelin is turned to face him, kneeling beside him, feet tucked like they had been before and she’s touching the ink on the side of his face tracing the patterns to the scruff of his hair. “When are you going to ink me,” she teases.

“When you know what you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your roots are growing,” she comments, tugging lightly at the overgrown locks where dark meets silver. He smiles but it's wary. His hand rests on her hips and he squeezes lightly, and without thinking, he leans his head on her, pleased to find that thump of her heart beating roughly against his ears. Aelin lets out a sigh, raking her fingers into his moonlight locks and finally asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” he debates on bottling it up, because maybe this is a generational thing and dating means something different to him than it means to her.

“You seem… out of touch with me,” and her voice splinters at the end, going so soft, it almost gets drowned out by the insistent pumping of her heart in his ears.

He holds her tighter, and finally admits, “I… I walked by the bar after work that day.” Maybe she hadn’t meant to purposely leave out exactly whom she was planning to meet up with, but the guilt ridden look on her face tells him that she’d thought nothing good would come from Rowan knowing this information. “Did you think I wouldn’t know about your date?” he tries to smile but it feels all wrong – he had tried to be teasing, but he’s hurt – angry even. “Or did you think I wouldn’t have trusted you?”

“We were just talking,” she tells him, “It wasn’t anything serious.” Rowan holds his tongue, figuring maybe if he’d been more public with their relationship instead of sneaking in kisses during the day when no one’s watching, treating dates as secrets, and avoiding answering questions by their peers, maybe he wouldn’t feel as shitty as he does now. “I should have told you – but I didn’t think it meant anything – it still doesn’t mean anything.”

He tilts his head to look up at her, holds her steady and reaches with his free hand to touch the ends of her hair, twisting sunlight around his finger almost absently. “This is new – everything with you is new,” he confesses. He doesn’t want to be that guy – the one who’s insecure about his girl hanging with other guys, doesn’t want to second guess when she says she’s made plans. He traces down her arm, grabbing the tips of her fingers and leading them to his lips, kissing them lightly. “I trust you,” he lets her know, “So please,” he begs, watching the flush in cheeks, the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth, “Don’t make a fool out of me, Aelin.”

“I promise,” she says, not even a beat later and just the same, he’s tugging her on top of his lap. The television casts an array of colors like an aura behind her – godly, he thinks. She bends forward, her hair curtaining them, encasing them with a familiar scent. “Maybe I should have let you known,” Aelin says quietly, “That when I'm with you, I'm with you. No one else.” Rowan’s hand glides just under her sweater, fingers splaying where he knows birthmarks hide. His other hand weaves gently into her hair, pushing strands back, behind her ear, palm pressing to her cheek, holding her face steady when he shortens the distance and kisses her so softly. Her toes curl, knees on either side of him squeezing his thighs. He brings her closer to him, so close the fabric of their clothes begin to imprint and indent against their skin. “I’m sorry,” Aelin murmurs against his lips.

She’s rough when she’s kissing him again, desperate, like she needs to show him she means it and this is the only way she can think of. And when Rowan bites at her lips, he knows she doesn’t mind because her hands are at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper against her, then she guides his lips down her neck when she can’t seem to get air in her lungs. His teeth scrapes against her flesh, her nails against his. He breaks only to get her sweater off, digits immediately at her navel, fingerprints covering the golden charm he had so carefully pierced into her skin. He mouths at her breasts, pulling her bra down enough to latch on to a nipple. She calls out his name in surprise, hips grinding hard against his. His tongue flicks roughly against the nipple before it flattens over her, soothing the ache while Aelin rubs her hips against his, frantic for more friction.

He should slow down, he thinks, biting at the swell of her breasts, blooming pink and reddening marks wherever he can. He’s never been this rough with her before, never thought of his markings as punishment - but she’s guiding his hand to her the buttons of her shorts, fumbling to get them undone, “Rowan… - I, ahh,” she doesn’t mind. More, she wants to say, but she doesn’t have to, his fingers are right where she wants them, working fast and expertise, having her panting and quivering and he’s not even in her yet, just rubbing her between her folds, soft then faster, and when he presses down on her clit, she’s screaming into his shoulder, trying to muffle her cries when she comes.

She’s still breathing rough when he has her on her back, her bra behind the couch, her shorts and underwear right at his feet. His shirt came off, but his jeans are just barely undone, settling below his hips, because he’s feeling so fucking frantic. “Wait – ah,” she throws an arm over her eyes, trying to settle the stars swimming in her vision, “need to breathe,” she tells him, though she lets him spread her legs wide and position himself right between her. Her stomach tenses on the contact alone. Her chest heaves up and down, she’s coming down but not quite there yet. Her body jolts and she twitches involuntarily, knees shaking when the tip of his cock slides right between her folds.

He likes her like this – he likes her in a lot of different ways, but especially this. Her hand flies to his bicep and he has a full view of how her face contorts, how her eyes screw shut so tight that her nose scrunches up. “Look at me, princess,” he murmurs, “let me see those pretty eyes,” she opens her eyes, a wave of colors akin to the sun meeting the ocean, and her lips part as he slides his cock up and down, pressing the tip to her clit. His breath is hot in her ears, “You can catch your breath later,” is all the warning he gives her when he pushes into her.

She cries out, fingernails digging into his arms, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Ah!” she’s not yet fully back from her first orgasm, but it already feels like an onslaught of much more hitting her in succession, too quickly, too soon. One of Rowan's hand is holding a thigh in place, at angle just right, hitting her fucking womb with every thrust. His other hand is placed against her stomach, and she feels like she’s going to explode – at a loss for words, at a loss for all her senses, Aelin really only knows his name. “Ro – ah… ah! Ro...wan…” She manages to move her hands to his face, pulling him closer, heads touching when she gets lost in his eyes. Tears prick, and her breath catches. Her chest feels so tight but she just wants him to consume her. “Ah…” she manages just hoarse little noises, overwhelmed he’s fully inside of her, and he begins to just rotate his hips enough that his pelvis rubs against her swollen clit.  “Want… it…” she gets out, gibberish in her slurs, “Want you…”

Rowan moves out of her slowly, “You’re so good,” he murmurs, thumb moving to press her clit. She weeps, drawing blood when her nails scrape down the back of his neck. He feels himself sliding in and out of her, the palm of his hand practically caving into her abdomen. He’s fucking her so deep and so hard, he feels like he’s absolutely losing himself in her. “You look… so beautiful,” Rowan whispers, maybe for the first time with the way her eyes flash in surprise. “Look how well you take me,” he murmurs, in place of the awful possessive shit he really wants to say. "So good..." He’ll hold his tongue from saying, “this is mine – you’re all mine.” He makes sure to embed it into her skin instead, makes sure Aelin still feels him when this all over, makes sure he leaves his marks on her like lewd little tattoos.

[ellecdc]

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them. 

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people. 

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed. 

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera. 

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy. 

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create. 

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms. 

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though. 

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture. 

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand. 

You were ethereal. 

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did. 

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed. 

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own. 

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion. 

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?” 

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you. 

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?” 

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down. 

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.” 

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle. 

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense. 

Remus was infatuated. 

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures. 

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours. 

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly  before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?” 

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?” 

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck. 

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing. 

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away  - the sound of your laugh still  echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice. 

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh. 

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing. 

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?” 

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in. 

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly. 

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?” 

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow. 

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly. 

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram. 

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning. 

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly. 

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice. 

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break. 

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[hamiltonaf]

hey pretty, hope u okay! if it's possible, could u write something for lewis? they have been best friends since 15 after meeting in karts (the reader is a Ferrari driver) lewis has been in love w her since the day they match, but never say something bc he is afraid of losting her. the reader got out of her last relationship and they became close again and one night they just get together and end up confessing their love to both of them. this can be a social media or not, what u prefer, thank u 🤍 (and sorry about the english, it's not my first language)

Icebreaker | Lewis Hamilton

{SOCIAL MEDIA AU}

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x BFF ! Reader

Warnings: None just major fluff

A/N: Hello my loves ! My first SMAU, I hope I did it justice. Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. Requests are open .xo

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc and 638 293 others

yourusername Summer break dump

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user1 Forget about being a wag, I wanna be a HAB !!!!

user2 That boyfriend of hers has nooooo idea how lucky he is..

teamlh SIRRR we see you in the likes

user3 The fact that he liked this 1 min after posting… post notifications are ONNNN

user4 We NEED Lewis & Y/N content ASAPPPP

user5 Charles is 100% reading these comments

yourusername added to their story

yourusername deleted their story

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton For old times sake 😉 yourusername

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teamlh OH MY DAYS

user5 THEY WENT KARTING TOGETHER

user6 I’m not okay.

teamyourname besties reunited awwwww

yourusername I think you forgot to mention the part where I won 😌

lewishamilton Okay fine 😪

user7 I’m CRYING ^^ go QUEEENNNNN !!!! I love her sm 🥹🩷

yourusername

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yourusername Best weekend yet 🤍 Finally faced my fears 🥹😭

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lewishamilton So proud of you ❤️

yourusername All thanks to you 🥰

user1 Are they flirting on main ? 👀

lewhamilton He took her skydiving 😭😭😭 I’m not crying

lhamiltoncrew So are we just going to ignore the sneaky last pic that Y/N posted ??????? 🥹 SO CUTE

fansofyourname Its been a while since we saw Y/N this happy 🥹 Lew is so good for her

user2 Her ex really fumbled 🤪

user3 I’m so glad he didn’t, otherwise when was this ship gonna sail ? 👀

user4 Oh it’s DEFINITELY sailing honey 😏

lewishamilton and yourusername

Liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, georgerussell and 1 892 738 others

lewishamilton Champagne showers 😜

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yourusername Thanks for that, I can’t hear now. Merc strategy 🧐 FIA needs to look into this

lewishamilton Forgive me 🥺❤️

yourusername Hmm…I’ll think about it 🤔

lewishamilton I’m sitting right next to you 🙃

user1 These 2 ^^^ I’m DEAD 💀

yournamehamilton THEY ARE DATING 100%

charlesleclerc Thanks for cropping me out 🙂

yourusername 😇😇😇

georgerussell Congrats yourusername 😌

yourusername and lewishamilton

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yourusername Mi amore 🤍

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lewishamilton ❤️❤️❤️

fanofyourusername OH MY GOD 😱

lewhamilton Talk about hard launch 🤩

user1 Who wrote their love story 😭😭😭

ferarrifangirl From rivals since they were teens to lovers 😩 Y/N stays WINNING

charlesleclerc Called it 😌

yourusername Ariana, what are you doing here 🫣

user2 They were meant for each other all along 🥹

LH44crew It’s beyond me how Y/N never noticed the way he used to look at her 😭😭😭

hamiltonyourname Find yourself a man that looks at you like Sir Lewis Hamilton 😩

[cheollipop]

ꕥ— 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮

navi | taglist

pairing: kitty!choi san x owner!reader x puppy!jung wooyoung

w.c.: 4.4k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader, mxm heavy (check tags)

squeezed between your body and wooyoung's, kisses littered over his heated skin and whimpers dragged out from between his lips, you guided san through his first heat.

warnings: threesome (m/f/m), thigh humping, unprotected sex (👎), vaginal sex, mxm, anal fingering, some rimming, anal sex, slick for lube lmao, bottom!san, top!wooyoung, sub!san, service dom!reader, who knows what wooyoung is, man just wants to fuck, knotting, multiple orgasms (m&f), so much cum, like a crazy amount, very unrealistic amount of cum, handjob, male squirting, breeding kink, lots of praise, lots of overstimulation, lots of creampies, some cockwarming, some spit, san is very whiny, nicknames (mommy; woo, youngie; sannie, kitty, love, darling), I think that's all?

A/N: this is thank you gift to one of the sweetest people I've had the honour of meeting!! @roodles17 /@littleocean-rose thank you so much for everything, and I really hope I did your idea justice!! happy reading~~

nsfw and warnings under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Fingers pressing into the tattered keycaps, you basked under the sliver of sunlight filtering through the open blinds above your desk, the shining orb only now departing from its locus, a couple more hours to go before the sky changed hues and the clouds resembled cotton candy. You sighed as you turned your attention back to your screen, urging your hands to move while your unfinished report stared back at you.

You don’t hear the muted shuffling behind you, bare feet padding along the floorboards until they reached your side, a subtle gush of air blowing over your skin as the cat hybrid crouched beside you, nuzzling his cheek into your lap. You smiled at the gesture, moving one hand off your keyboard to run it through his blonde locks, taking in his docile form as he sat on the floor by your desk chair. Your mind wandered back to his first few weeks with you: he would only eat when he was alone, startle at any sound, hiss and bite whenever you tried getting near him. But now, that same hybrid sought out affection and even began initiating it, growing whinier every second your attention was not on him, his lips pouting egregiously until you welcomed him into your lap.

He tilted his chin upwards, setting it on your thigh to look up at you expectantly, shifting onto his knees as his eyes grew wider. You huffed out a laugh at his expression, and you knew the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the golden rays of spring shining through your window. But your work deadline ticked in your head, your eyes flitting back towards your laptop as its fan whirred in the background, sighing in defeat.

“I really need to get this done, Sannie,” the disappointment on his face pulled at your heartstrings. “I’m sorry, love. Give me an hour or two and I’ll be all yours, okay?”

The pout on his lips persisted, but a hesitant nod shook his head. You smiled. He was your good boy.

San remained by your side for next hour, cheek smushed against your pajama bottoms and his tail brushing over your feet every time it swayed. It distracted you at first, the subtle purr vibrating over your thigh, but soon your fingers began moving steadily over the keys, typing paragraph after paragraph, San’s restless fidgeting going unnoticed as you immersed yourself into your report.

He stared up at your profile, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and your lips pursed while you worked, a shot of pain surging through his tight abdomen. You’d heard San make a lot of noises—needy meows, hearty giggles, feisty hisses—but the pained mewl slipping through his lips wasn’t one of them, instantly turning your head towards him. Teary eyes met yours, his chin propped up on your thigh and his face contorting into that of fiery need, fingers grasping at your calves in an attempt to ground himself. You noted the trail of slick left on the floorboards under him, shimmering under the sunlight as he rutted over the solid wood.

Drawing your attention back to his eyes, you held his face in your palms, “Sannie, can you tell me what hurts, love?”

“I-I can’t wait anymore, ‘hurts,” tears welled up in his eyes, and before you could repeat your question, San’s hand finds its way between his legs, palming over the tent in his pink sleep shorts with built-up desperation. “Please, ‘want you now.”

You glanced at your screen, the nearing deadline ticking in your head as you weighed your options. Small hands tugged at your flowy bottoms, the sound of reckless shuffling focusing your attention on San as he dragged his hips along the floor, soft whimper slipping through his parted lips. Your fingers twitched over his skin, slipping down to rest on his biceps.

“How about you grind against mommy while she gets the rest of her work done, hm?”

San’s eyes lit up, and he hurriedly scrambled off the floor to straddle one of your thighs, panting heavily as you moved his waistband down—sucking in a deep breath at the lack of underwear—and snapping it under his balls. The thin material was soaked through, precum and slick darkening the cotton as San’s arousal flooded out of his delicate body. You’d never seen the cat hybrid act this way, eying over his reddening skin while he grinded his leaking cock over your upper thigh, streaks of precum staining the fabric.

“Good?” You pushed back the blonde strands sticking to his damp forehead.

“’F-feels weird, mommy, I- ah!”

“Weird how, love?” You brushed a thumb over his shut eyelid, a silent request for him to look at you, and he did, peaking at you through the thick veil of arousal clouding his senses. “Tell mommy how you’re feeling.”

“I-I don’t know...”

The pout on his lips drew a smile on yours, “Do you not feel good?”

“No! ‘Feels so good…. I-I’m so close,” his hips slowed, San's eyebrows furrowing at the languid pace despite it being his own doing.

“Does kitty want to cum?” You smiled, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

He bit back a moan, canines digging into his bottom lip as he tortured himself with slow drags over your clothed skin. “But, ngh- I don’t wanna get your clothes dirty.”

Fondness flooded your chest, your heart about to burst at the innocence held within his words, contrasting the flushed state of his skin and the precum seeping into your patterned pants. “Oh Sannie, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Your lips stretched further at the subtle perk-up of his ears at the nickname, “don’t worry about that, darling, we can wash them later.”

Your hands found their place on his behind, guiding his movements over your thigh until airy moans poured out of him. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck, he breathed in your scent, blowing hot air out of his lungs while he frantically rolled his hips back into your palms, and forwards over the soft cotton. Mumbled pleas and heavy pants muffled by your skin, the stutter of his hips as you moved them over you, San drowned himself in the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsing while ropes of white painted over the pattern on your pants.

A rough tongue ran over your pulse point, suckling on the delicate skin as he continued to grind over you, still hard and not showing any signs of fatigue. Unusual, you thought, as the hybrid was usually satisfied after one round, feeding off the attention you’d given him until another wave of need overtook him. Frenetic hips continued to move over your thigh, aided by the translucent liquid coating your pants, his thrusts only calming down once a third body entered the room, resonant footsteps turning hushed as bare feet pressed into the fluffy rug in your study. A curious—and slightly erratic—nose dug into the side of San’s freckled neck, Wooyoung’s hanging ears along with a few strands of purple brushing against the side of your face, the poignant scent of lavender permeating the air around you. Sandwiched between the two bodies, you watched queryingly as his sniffing nose trailed upwards to nuzzle into the other hybrid’s hair—yet another unusual occurrence.

After a couple months of cautious steps and endless bickering, the two hybrids were basically inseparable. Their scent mingled into one, and one of their beds was almost always empty as they began to favour a shared sleeping arrangement. But Wooyoung was acting strange, as though he was experiencing a new side to San, inhaling a scent different to the one he’d grown used to.

“Smells so good,” he muttered into the blonde locks, arm circling the two bodies in the creaking chair to pull San closer with a hand on his lower back, pushing him further into your chest with the gesture.

“Youngie…” Wooyoung’s ears perked up at the gravelly tone, but his face remained buried into the side of San’s head. “Youngie, ‘want you, please,” his hips gave a few aggressive thrusts before another load of hot cum spurted out of his angry cockhead, a broken cry sending a wave of arousal down to your core, and—judging by the grunt leaving the puppy hybrid’s lips—Wooyoung’s as well.

You gave San a few seconds to wind down, sucking in a surprised gasp when the hybrid returned to his insistent grinding, a whispered “not enough” on his lips. With your hands on his shoulders, you pulled him off you until his flushed face returned to your field of vision, glossy lips parted and eyes lidded with lust while he moved his cock over a puddle of his own cum. Levelling Wooyoung with a warning look, the hybrid pulled back his meddling nose with a dejected whine, allowing you to examine the cat hybrid without his unneeded assistance. You placed a hand on his cheek, the other on his forehead, eyebrows raising at the abnormal warmth seeping into your palms as the blonde nuzzled into your touch, a soft purr vibrating in his chest. The high temperature, the urgent need for stimulation, the obscene amount of cum coating your thigh—you gathered the symptoms in your head, a final diagnosis flashing in red before your eyes. Of course.

Your fingers slid into his hair, thumb brushing over his cheekbone while you scratched at the hair behind his ears, the worry pulling your eyebrows together lessening at the way San melted under your touch. “Oh, love, you’re in heat?” It was as though your words had reminded him of his current situation, his movements growing frantic again, the hand you’d slid down to his hips proving useless in calming him down. “My poor baby,” you cooed, allowing him to move as he wished, “you won’t feel better until you get a knot in you.”

San’s head snapped upwards, looking for the puppy hybrid’s eyes and finding them staring right back at him, the veins in his hands protruding out of the delicate skin as he gripped the edge of the chair behind you to prevent himself from reaching out to San. Your good boy, following your unspoken instruction.

Small hands circled around your head to grab fistfuls of Wooyoung’s shirt, making you on eye-level with San’s chest as his eyes grew teary with overflowing need, “please, Youngie, please knot me.”

Peering down at you with a questioning gaze, hints of desperation glimmering in his hooded eyes, Wooyoung silently asked you an obvious question, his fingers twitching beside your head. You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as your chest brimmed with teeming adoration.

“What do you say, Youngie, should we help our poor kitty out?”

--

Small hands kneaded at the backs of your thighs, folding you in half and leaning over your body while he dug his blunt nails into the flesh, the relaxed pace at which he squeezed at your skin contrasting that of his hips, hammering into your soaked pussy without relent, as though he hadn’t dragged two orgasms out of you already. You slid a hand over the side of his neck, bringing his head down until the tell-tale roughness of his tongue grazed your collarbone.

San’s thrusts faltered, his hips now shallowly rolling into your cunt while mumbled gibberish mixed with whimpers poured onto your chest in hot exhales. He was more so rutting his hips back than forward, meeting Wooyoung’s long fingers as they stretched him open, a stream of slick dripping down San’s balls and mingling with your arousal and his cum, a thick load already stuffed deep within you. At the change in demeanour, Wooyoung prodded the pads of his fingers at the swollen gland again, eyes following the frantic sway of the fluffy white tail in front of him, and noting the subtle twitch of San’s toned thighs.

“Youngie, ‘s enough,” San pleaded, voice drowned out as he dug his face further into the crook of your neck, and Wooyoung decided he liked that reaction. So he repeated the motion, once, twice, until you felt his throbbing length pulsating within you. “Nghh! P-please I-”

He drew his hips away from the relentless digits, sheathing himself within your warm walls as Wooyoung milked him from the back, his muscles jerking with every brush against his prostate. He pulled his fingers out at the first protest from the cat hybrid, a feisty paw swinging backwards in complaint, instead leaning down lick a stripe over San’s winking hole, clenching uselessly as slicked oozed out of it. That same paw reached back to press against the back of Wooyoung’s head, pushing him further between his legs as the starved tongue lapped at his puckered rim.

To your surprise, San’s attention focused back onto you, his eyes lidded but still aware, not yet clouded with the thick haze of his heat. Rolling his hips experimentally, San’s eyebrows furrowed in discomfort momentarily before relaxing, languidly grinding his once-again hardening cock into your cunt, exhaling breathy moans that reached your face in negligible puffs, “am I making you feel good, mommy?”

You carded your fingers through his soft locks, the sound of Wooyoung suckling excitedly on San’s rim drowning into the background as gentle eyes awaited your affirmation. “You feel so good, Sannie, always so good got me, love,” the corners of your lips curved into an easy smile, your overwhelming infatuation towards the hybrid pouring into your expression. But then his face contorted again, as though every motion within you wounded him. “Sannie, does it hurt, darling? We can stop now if you’re tired-”

“No!” Pink painted his cheeks at the sudden raise in his tone, his next words uttered under his breath with embarrassment laced into the syllables, “p-please don’t stop, mommy feels so good.... ‘wanna cum again, please, can I?”

Holding his face between your palms, you drew him closer to smack a few open-mouthed kisses onto his heated forehead, thumbing over his cheekbones while you eyed his features for a few seconds, his soft whine reminding you that he’d asked a question, “of course you can, darling, you can cum as many times as you want.” San’s ears perked up, his tail standing straight for a moment before beginning to wave at a building pace, becoming uncontrollable after he’d picked up your next words, “do you wanna try coming on Youngie’s knot?”

San's hips stilled, partly at your words, but also due to the firm chest now stuck to his sweat-covered back, Wooyoung’s cock snug between his cheeks. Small fingers clutched your thighs again, digging into the skin as Wooyoung teased his cockhead over the perky hole, smearing precum around until it formed a homogenous mixture with San’s slick before finally breaching his entrance. The tinges of neglect you’d been feeling faded away with every inch Wooyoung pushed into the hybrid above you, your position under him granting you a front-row view to his changing expressions—his delicate features reforming as pleasure seeped through his nerves, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep them open, drawing a perfect circle with his mouth and widening it into an oval once Wooyoung bottomed out. You resisted shutting your eyes, wanting to take in the hushed whimpers escaping the back of San’s throat without any external interferences, but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the hybrid’s face.

Wooyoung’s patience had never been the greatest, always first to jump off the couch whenever he heard your footsteps approaching the front door; not backing down even after getting scolded for crowding you while you made dinner. So you weren’t particularly surprised when he allowed San only a few seconds to adjust, snapping his hips into the hybrid with urgency, pushing his body into yours with every forceful thrust. Veiny hands found San’s waist, gripping the narrow diameter while he drove his cock into his dripping hole, lowering his head to watch himself sink into the stretched rim, and puckered his lips to drop a wad of spit over it, adding to the mess San had already made.

The sweat coating San’s forehead smeared over your chest, his body curling in on itself as he simply took Wooyoung’s cock, giving up on his lousy attempts at thrusting into you. Wrapping your arms around San’s shoulders, you cradled the back of his head and pressed your lips to his hair, the sound of skin-on-skin blending in with the soft mewls vibrating against your chest while Wooyoung pounded into him.

“Kitty feels so good, so warm inside, ah-” his hands slid off San’s waist, one curving over the slope of his ass, spreading him open until the stretched hole peeked at him, squeezing deliciously around his cock, the other pressing onto his lower back.

San's back arched, his nipples rubbing over your torso with every forward jerk, “Youngie, please m-more- ‘want more- hnngh!”

The tone of his voice, the airy moans paired with the drool pooling over your skin, the minute brushes of his cockhead over your g-spot—you were beginning to feel impatient, walls clenching around his throbbing length. That was enough to drive him over the edge, your eyebrows shooting up when warmth spread through your lower belly, the hybrid’s body shuddering as another orgasm rushed through him, Wooyoung’s hips resolute as he guided him through his high.

Through the thick haze of lust, Wooyoung’s eyes locked on you, seemingly noticing your restless state as you warmed San’s cock. He leaned over the blonde’s body, planting a kiss over his shoulder blade, “is kitty being lazy?” the words seemed to fly over his head, his eyes barely open as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, so Wooyoung gave him a harsh thrust to drag his attention back to him, a startled cry leaving his lips, “Does Sannie like Youngie’s cock that much? Too dumb to do anything but take it?”

San’s head shot off your chest, craning his neck to look back at the puppy hybrid, “l-love Youngie’s cock, please, ‘want it so bad-”

Despite San’s pleads, Wooyoung remained still, one hand squeezing at the flesh of his ass and the other reaching forward to lock with yours, “uh uh, you gotta move properly, San-ah,” he rolled his hips once, moving San with him, his cock hard and throbbing inside you.

“It’s okay, Woo,” you tried, but Wooyoung shook his head.

“Mommy should feel good too,” he pulled his hand away, holding San’s hips and guiding his movements—forward to properly fuck into you, then back to sink his cock into his tight heat.

With your walls wrapped around him and his around Wooyoung’s, the leaking cockhead pressing into his prostate every time it split him open, San’s breathing quickened, chest flushed and heaving as a melody of moans fell off his tongue. Unsatisfied with the pace San was going at, Wooyoung returned to his frenzied rhythm, taking San’s hips with him as he hammered his cock into his tight ass. Soft fingers grasped at the sheets by your head, glimmering eyes—glazed over and glassy—staring back at you, his lips moving in unuttered words as he found his voice through the sounds of pleasure occupying it.

“A-am I doing good, mommy? Is Sannie making you f-feel good?”

The desperation in his voice caused the butterflies in your stomach to thrash around, your fingers gentle as they caressed the hair at his crown, your other hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders, gliding smoothly over the sweat beading over his skin. “My good boy, doing so well for me,” you cooed.

And he was. Shots of pleasure seared up your spine as his cock dragged over your pulsing walls, curving into your sweet spot to push you closer to the edge. You could hear the distinct purr reverberating in San’s chest, the gap between your bodies small enough to allow his perked-up nipples to faintly brush against yours with every onward sway.

You could hear Wooyoung’s growing frantic, leaning forward and growling into San’s neck as he fucked into his dripping ass, “mommy, please, hah- c-can I fill kitty up? ‘wanna fuck his breeding hole full of Youngie’s cum, can I please?”

Heat surged through your insides at his words, his lidded eyes peeking at you over San’s shoulder, and you could see his tail wagging violently in the background. You pushed a purple strand off his forehead, brushing your thumb over his eyebrow as you spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone while San’s hips bucked into you, “you have t-to ask Sannie, baby, not me.”

Burying his nose into San’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent emitting off him between the words he muffled into his skin, “Sannie, can I? C-can I give you my knot? ‘Want you to have Youngie’s pups.”

A whimper escaped through San’s parted lips, not knowing whether to pump his cock into you or to fuck himself on Wooyoung’s, his rhythm all over the place as he pathetically whined and begged for release, “y-yeah- yes, please- ‘Wanna have your pups, g-give it all to me- nghh!”

Amidst the chaos occurring above you, your nerves lit up as your orgasm snuck up on you, your lips parting in a silent cry while San continued his arrhythmic thrusts despite the tremors shaking your body. Whispered I’m sorry's blew over your skin, the setting sun bidding you farewell through the open blinds and painting the walls in a pinkish hue, the rays’ warmth nearly equivalent to that within you as San’s cock spurted weak ribbons of white between your walls. You whimpered at the overstimulation, and San pulled out of you, resting his softening length on your mound while the other hybrid used him like a fucktoy.

The rasp in Wooyoung’s voice echoed in your ears, “gonna look so pretty when you’re swollen.” San’s mewled in response. “All mine, my pretty kitty, going to take all of Youngie’s cum,” he ended with a throaty grunt, snapping his hips thrice before stilling, his knot locking in place and his abdomen flexing as he unloaded inside his heat.

San’s body seized up atop of yours, his face scrunching in discomfort momentarily before easing, and his muscles turned to jelly as he relaxed over you. But Wooyoung’s hand reached between their tangled limbs, pressing San’s spent cock into your lower belly and ignoring the broken protests from below. Grinding his hips into San’ stretched rim, he emptied his thick load inside his used hole, his hand dragging the blonde’s cock over the faint bulge in your tummy where a pool of his cum sat within your womb.

“Youngie, ‘hurts, it hurts-” He hiccupped, and yet his hips followed the movement, forcing his eyelids open to watch his angry cockhead smear watery cum and remnants of your arousal over the skin. “I can’t- please, I-I-”

“Yes you can, Sannie,” you interjected, running a shaky hand through his damp locks, “you can give Woo and I one more, right?”

His eyes welled up with tears, but he nodded nonetheless, the thick knot tugging against his swollen entrance as he slid his length over your skin. “F-feels weird, mommy,” but San kept moving, Wooyoung’s hand still spread over the length to trap him against you.

It was as though a pressure had been rapidly building inside him—Wooyoung’s knot stretching him open and his cum fucked so deep inside him, your skin so smooth and tender under his overstimulated cock as he continued to rut against it. Rough fingers wrapped around the base of his tail, tugging harshly and sending waves of euphoria crashing through San’s trembling body. The pressure burst in the form of translucent streams, his cock twitching uncontrollably as Wooyoung palmed over the head, urging more liquid to squirt out of it and coat your torso. A broken cry ripped out of San’s throat, jerking backwards and away from the puppy’s merciless touch until he gave him some reprieve.

Strong arms wrapped around San’s waist, holding him against his firm body while his chest rose and fell erratically. You sat up, running gentle hands over San’s thighs while peppering kisses over his damp skin, patient while the spasming in his muscles died down. Resting back on his heels, Wooyoung’s arms remained protective around San’s delicate body, eyes roaming over the liquid dripping off your breasts and down your abdomen, a cheeky smile stretching his lips until his canines peeked through:

“I think kitty's all out of milk.”

Once Wooyoung’s knot went down, he slapped off the sticky paws clinging to him and kissed away the pout painting San’s lips, rushing out of bed to clean up. San complained for less than minute before you walked in—showered and carrying a wet rag—to clean him up, running the cloth between his legs and wiping away all the slick and cum. He would shower later, but now, he allowed you to slip a fresh pair of matching pajamas onto his limp body, inhaling the familiar scent of your vanilla-scented laundry detergent before sinking into the clean bedding you’d laid out.

Settling into bed with his head tucked into your neck, limbs tangled up underneath the duvet, you heard the resonant purr sounding in his chest a few seconds before wet footsteps breached the doorway. A warm body followed by a trail of floral bodywash stretched over you to flop behind San's figure, arms enveloping the fatigued hybrid and his hands falling over your waist. With a final look at the two of them—San’s eyes fluttering shut as he succumbed to his exhaustion, cheeks flushed and his hair matted with dried-up sweat; a soft snore dragging your attention to the knocked-out puppy, damp, purple locks spread out on the pillow under his head while he squeezed himself flush against San’s back.

Despite his drowsiness, San peeked an eye open to look at you, an easy smile curling the corners of his lips once he found your gaze. You leaned forward to press your lips to his forehead, then his cheekbones, and finally his pouted lips, moving back while scratching behind his fluffed ears to watch slumber pulling his eyelids shut. You mooned over the tranquillity weaved into his expression—the subtle tug at the corner of his lips, a smile he couldn’t hold back even when unconscious—as though he carried no concern for the next wave of his heat, content so long as he remained encompassed within the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"you can do whatever you want, you're not Stuck With Me."

"i'll tell you one thing, we'd make history, you and me. you're getting closer now, it's getting better now, but you're still so far gone."

synopsis// bottled up feelings have to come out eventually.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 8k

contents// angst with a happy ending, college!au, literally just y/n and geto being idiots but mostly y/n, shoko only knows tough love, obligatory rain scene, friends to lovers, ooc geto?

notes// scorpions are haunting me so i’m posting this as a distraction. anyways one of my anons requested this!!! so anon i hope i did ur idea justice and that u like it sorry its kinda all over the place.... anywho so besides this being a request, it was also inspired by the song the point by eatmewhileimhot! bye :3 OH and if anyone else has any other requests feel free to lmk!!

You poke at your food, focusing on the sound your fork makes as it scrapes against your plate instead of whatever the person sitting across from you is saying. You know you should pay attention; you know you’re being rude, but god, are you bored out of your fucking mind. You would much rather be hanging out with Suguru right now, feeling a twinge of regret at turning him down just for this.

“Y/N?” 

Your head raises to look at the person in front of you. “Huh?” 

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You frown sheepishly. “Uh, no, sorry.”

“It’s fine,“ they say, clearing their throat, “I was just saying how I kinda wish we went somewhere else cause I'm craving zaru soba, but I wanted to impress you, you know?”

You nod, not computing the last of his sentence with your brain stuck on the mention of zaru soba. “Suguru likes that.”

“What?”

“Zaru soba—Suguru likes that.”

Your date shoots you a confused stare, and you subconsciously sink into your chair.

“Is, uh, is there something on my face or?” you ask, bringing your hands up to feel around your face.

They shake their head. “No, it’s just—uh, you bring up this Suguru guy a lot, and by a lot, I mean like you’ve brought him up this whole date...”

“I have?” 

They nod. 

“Shit—i’m sorry..” 

“It’s fine.” They dismiss your apology by asking, “What is he to you anyway?”

You stare at him blankly. That’s an easy question. Suguru, to you, is your—he’s your—

“He your friend or something?”

Yes! Suguru is your friend—your best friend even—so why can't you say it out loud? Why are you hesitating?

You laugh nervously, mumbling, “Or something...”

“Or something?” they repeat in hopes you’ll elaborate on what you mean.

You don’t.

Instead, you stand abruptly out of your seat and gather your things. “Um! You know, this has been really great and all, but I actually think I should get going.”

"Oh, okay,” they say, standing up with you. “Uh, do you wanna do this again maybe?”

“You're a lovely person, but...

“It's Suguru, isn't it?”

“What?” You almost choke on your spit as you frantically stammer, “No, uh, no! It's not Suguru-Suguru’s just my-it's-“ you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “It's not because of him.”

They curtly hum. “Thanks for giving me a chance anyway.”

You nod. “I'm gonna—I'm gonna go.”

☆☆☆☆

Suguru is face down on a pillow on his bed when Gojo walks into their shared dorm.

“What happened now?” He asks as he goes to sit on the edge of Suguru’s bed.

“Y/N’s on a date,” he grumbles into the pillow, his words barely audible.

Gojo rolls his eyes. "Suguru, this is just sad at this point.”

Suguru lifts his head and glares at Gojo from over his shoulder. His eyes burning holes into the other's head.

“What? It is!” 

Suguru groans and kicks Gojo as he buries his face back into his pillow.

“Ow! Don’t get mad at me for telling the truth!”

Suguru kicks him again.

“Stop that! You’re acting like a child!”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ok, listen, this isn’t about me,” Gojo adds, rolling his eyes.

Suguru rolls onto his back and drapes an arm over his face, muttering, “Whatever.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Gojo grumbles as he stands up and walks over to his own bed. “I can't take this, Suguru.“ He grabs his pillow and throws it at Suguru. "You can't do this every time they go on a date!”

Suguru doesn’t even flinch when the pillow lands on his face, nor does he bother moving it as he responds, “Watch me.”

Gojo walks back over to Suguru and grabs the pillow from his face before resuming his position on the end of Suguru's bed. "How long has it been?”

“Since?”

“Since you first started liking them.”

Suguru hesitates to answer, “Too long.”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, shaking the pillow in his hands for dramatic effect. “Maybe…”

Suguru waits a moment to see if Gojo will finish his sentence, and when he doesn’t, Suguru sits up, quirking up his eyebrow at him as he asks slowly, as if attempting to subtly warn Gojo to pick his next words carefully: "Maybe what, Gojo?”

“Maybe it’s time to try and move on, Suguru…” He frowns and asks softly, “Are you just gonna torture yourself like this for the rest of your life?”

Suguru sighs and turns away from Gojo, a small frown on his face. He knows he’s right, but he’s scared in all honesty because, on the one hand, what if it works? What if he actually does move on? What if it was this easy to move on this whole time and he was just here torturing himself for nothing? And on the other hand, he doesn't want it to. He’s liked you for so long. You've taken up so much of his heart that, at this point, he thinks his heart is shaped like you, and it would feel wrong to not like you. He can't imagine himself not being completely and utterly devoted to you, and he doesn’t think he wants to.

“Suguru.” 

Suguru's brows knit together as he looks up at Gojo.

Gojo sighs. “Just try? One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. “I don’t even know anybody, Gojo.”

He perks up at the absence of rejection and happily explains, “Don’t worry bout that; leave it all up to me!" He emphasizes the word 'me' by pointing toward himself.

“Ok, well, that makes me even more inclined to say no.”

"Suguru, pleaseee,” Gojo begs. “Just one date!! That’s all I’m asking! You’re my friend, Suguru, and I know I don’t act like it, but I really do hate seeing you like this.”

Suguru crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow at him in suspicion, wondering, “Why are you being nice?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I do in fact care about my friends.”

Suguru breathes out heavily at his response, letting a brief silence wash over them.

“So..." Gojo pries. 

“Fine.”

“Yay!-“

Suguru instantly cuts him off, one finger raised, as he emphasizes sharply, “But just one date, Gojo.“

“Good enough for me!” he says, nodding quickly. “This will be the best date of your life, and you’ll realize you don’t even like Y/N all that much!”

Suguru feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him from that statement but quickly plays it off with a scoff, “Yeah, or it’s the worst date of my life, and I realize just how much more I like Y/N.”

“Ok, well,“ Gojo frowns and scratches his head awkwardly, “Can we at least try to be optimistic?”

“Fine.”

☆☆☆☆

Shoko’s sitting on her bed with her textbook in her lap when you enter your dorm, kicking your shoes off haphazardly across the room and slamming the door shut.

“You good?”

You groan in response as you sluggishly make your way toward her, pushing the book off her lap and instead replacing it with your head.

She looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I was reading that, you know.”

You groan again, but this time it comes out louder and more gutteral.

“Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or are you gonna just lay here in my lap groaning?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

You pout, looking up at her. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Where should I start?”

“Shoko,” you whine.

She bites back a smile as she asks, “Why would you think something's wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I mean, I go on so many dates, right?”

Shoko nods and hums something in acknowledgment.

“But they all never end up working out! Like none of them!” You exclaim, throwing your hands out in front of you, barely missing Shoko, who jerks her head to the side just in time. “They always all say the same thing.”

She pushes your hands back down so that she can return to her original position and asks, “Which is?”

You let your hands fall onto your chest as you turned your head to the side to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “That I mention Suguru a lot.”

You don’t even have to look back up at her to know she’s raising her eyebrows at you in question.

“Well, do you?”

Your gaze snaps back up at her as you exclaim, “Yeah, but!” You pause. “He's my… He's my best friend, so obviously I'd mention him a lot!”

The word best friend feels heavy and foreign in your mouth, like it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You’ve never had to put a label on you and Suguru, not until the dates at least, but even then, you and Suguru were just... simply that. You were just you and Suguru.

“Really feeling the love here.”

“Shokoooooo.”

She rolls her eyes. “You were just on a date, right?”

You nod. 

“And so what happened?”

“Nothing! I was bored; I'm always bored on these dates.”

"Okay, hypothetically,” she says, “What would you have rather been doing?”

“Hanging out with Suguru! I always tell myself that I'm literally gonna stop canceling on him for dates because I always end up regretting it.”

“Right, right,” she says, nodding. “Y/N, have you ever considered that maybe you like Geto?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I like Suguru, idiot. Did you not just hear me call him my-“

She cuts you off: “Your best friend. Yeah, whatever; that's not what I mean. I mean, like. romantically.”

“Huh?” Shoko’s words take a minute to fully register in your brain, but once they do, your jaw drops. “Huh?! Pft, no, of course not, that is... That is a… That is a silly thought.”

She stares down at you blankly, knowing the way you just stumbled over your whole sentence reveals your lack of conviction in your own words. "Right… Well, if you’re gonna be an idiot in denial, can you do that in your own bed? I need to study.”

You roll your eyes as you sit up. “Is studying all you do?”

She shrugs, and now that her lap is free from you, she places her textbook back into her lap. “Is obsessing over Geto all you do?”

“I don't like you.”

“You love me. Now leave me alone.”

You begrudgingly hop off her bed and into your own, making it a point to sigh dramatically the whole time. Once you're in your own bed, your phone goes off, and upon seeing who the message is from, you bite back a smile.

Shoko looks up from her textbook at the noise. “Oh? That your man?”

“Shut your mouth.”

She simply laughs under her breath before returning to her studies, and you happily return your attention back to your phone. 

Suguru<3: hey

Y/N: hey!

Suguru<3: oh I didn't expect you to reply so quick lol. I thought u were on a date?

Y/N: was :/ that shit suckedddddd it was so boring Suguru pls I would've much rather hung out with you

Suguru<3: well I mean u could've

Y/N: I KNOWWWW ugh next time remind me to never cancel on you for a lame date again k?

Suguru<3: yeah I will… so I'm taking it you won't be seeing them again?

Y/N: definitely not... I do wanna see u again tho!!

Suguru<3: you'll see me in class y/n

Y/N: yeah but that's so far awayyyyy

Suguru<3: yk if u wanna hangout rn u can just say so 

Y/N: do u wanna hang out?

Suguru<3: he can't he's busy -gojo 

Y/N: gojo when I get my hands on u. 

Suguru<3: :p -gojo

You groan dramatically and throw your phone somewhere onto your bed as you shove your face into your pillow, mumbling, “I'm going to sleep.”

“Eager to see your man tomorrow?”

“Die.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Gojo and Suguru are walking to class when Gojo starts humming obnoxiously, like he’s thinking about something and wants someone to notice, so he doesn’t stop until Suguru sighs.

“Can you shut up?”

Gojo frowns and feigns hurt. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m thinking about?”

“Fine, what are you thinking about, Gojo?”

Gojo slightly leans in toward Suguru as he coos, “Thinking about who I’m gonna set you up with, obviously!”

"Oh, right about that...”

“Nuh uh, you can't back out!”

“But I think they might feel the same?” Suguru says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gojo’s head whips toward Suguru in shock. “Wait huh?” 

“Before you stole my phone yesterday—which I’m still mad about, by the way—they said they would’ve rather hung out with me than go on the date,” he says, pulling out his phone to show Gojo the texts.

Gojo doesn’t say anything, and the lack of anything coming out of his mouth worries Suguru, who’s now scanning Gojo’s face for a trace of anything to tell him what the other is thinking and gets it when Gojo finally cracks a frown.

“What? Why do you look like that?” Suguru asks, and he hates how it comes out more panicked than he intended, his own voice like nails on a chalkboard to his ears.

“I don't wanna say anything that would get your hopes up,” Gojo says, his gaze now fixed on his steps. “And besides, maybe this date could still be good.”

“You’re not gonna let me get out of this, are you?”

“Of course not!” he says, his regular pep back in his step. “So does tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, whatever, Gojo, you’d make me go regardless, I don’t know why you ask.”

“Lol, true anyway." Gojo’s steps come to a halt. "Here’s my class; see you later!”

Suguru waves him off: "Yeah, whatever, oh, and Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“At least set me up with someone good," he says, an ever-so-slight smile on his face.

“Of course! Leave it all up to me, bestie!”

Suguru nods and continues on toward his own class, only then does he huff, “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

☆☆☆☆

You sat in your seat, your cheek leaning in your palm, sighing every so often from boredom but quickly perking up when you notice a familiar face walk through the door.

“Suguru!” 

“Y/N!”

Your gaze is glued to him as you watch him take his seat beside you; only once he’s fully situated do you speak up again: “I was wondering if you were skipping or something.”

Suguru tilts his head at you in confusion, asking, “Why?”

“Because you took so long.”

He tries to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up. What were you doing anyway?”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Gojo made me walk him to class.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice unamused as you speak, “Lame excuse, I walk with Shoko to her class every day and I still get here before you.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it’s Shoko?”

“True, I’ll excuse it for today if...”

“If?” He narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue your sentence.

“If we hang out tomorrow?”

“Can we hang out today?” He looks away as he says, “I’m kinda busy tomorrow....”

“Aw man,” you say, frowning, “You’re never busy.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just—" He halts before mumbling out the rest of his sentence—“something Gojo’s making me do.”

Suguru finally returns his gaze to you when he hears you huff.

“He’s taking you from me too often; I'll have to intervene sooner or later if he keeps this up.”

He stifles a laugh. “Can you not today?”

“Nope, I've gotta work on a project for one of my classes,” you say with a disappointed sigh.

“Okay, well, how about Wednesday, then?”

“I can fit you into my schedule, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up; don’t act like you weren’t the one asking me to hang out last night.”

“I was a different person then,” you deadpan.

Suguru rolls his eyes but can’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Yeah, ok.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Come the next afternoon, Suguru finds himself staring into a mirror at his outfit with a small scowl on his face.

“I look stupid.”

“You always look stupid,” Gojo remarks, patting Suguru on the back.

Suguru ignores him and rolls his eyes, his voice small as he borderline pleads, “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes! It’s too late to back out now when your date is in like twenty minutes, so really you should get going by now,” he says while attempting to push Suguru out the door.

Suguru doesn’t budge. “I don't even know this person, Gojo.”

“That’s what dates are for!”

Suguru looks over his shoulder at Gojo, who’s still trying to push him out the door. “You know this isn’t gonna work, right?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and huffs, “Well, not with that attitude.”

“Gojo.”

“Suguru, you said you’d try! so go! try!”

Suguru sighs and reluctantly gives in… again. “I hate you.”

Gojo waves him off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you can hate me after your date.”

Suguru doesn’t reply and instead opts to flip him off as he walks out the door.

☆☆☆☆

Suguru sits at a secluded booth in a dimly lit restaurant, lost in thought rather than listening to whatever the person sitting across from him is saying. He knows he should be paying attention; he knows he’s being rude, but god is he bored out of his fucking mind, and to say he’s hating every second of this is an understatement. He’d much rather be hanging out with you right now, regretting turning you down for this because just being here makes a part of him feel like he’s betraying you, and the thought has him anxiously wiping his sweaty palms against his pants. He’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you. Suguru was naive to believe he could delude himself into thinking that there was any possibility in any way that he’d move on, let alone with someone Gojo picked.

“Suguru?”

He quickly looks up at the person in front of him. “Yeah?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry—I guess I was just, uh, lost in thought.”

"Oh, it’s fine,” they say, confusingly normal about the whole situation. “I was just, um, talking about your friend Gojo, actually.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“I was actually hoping you'd help me get with him?”

“You do realize you're on a date with me, right?”

“Please.” They roll their eyes. “Don't act like you wanna be here any more than I do right now.”

“How did-“

“It's written all over your face, you know? They must be really special.” They tease with a sweet smile, “I almost feel like I should be jealous.”

Suguru swallows harshly, suddenly feeling way more exposed than he would ever want to, especially on a ‘date’. “Sorry…”

They shrug. “Don't be; honestly, I just said yes to this to get some pointers on Gojo, so I don't think I'm any better than you right now.”

Suguru nods, his mind reeling. He’s not actually sure what’s going on or how he got here in the first place. How could his date be so okay with the fact that he’s here thinking about someone else? Oh, right, because so are they, but it’s still not clicking in his brain.

“You can leave if you want.”

He narrows his eyes at them skeptically. “Huh?”

“To go hang out with the one you actually like.”

Suguru shakes his head. There’s somehow too much happening right now for him to comprehend. “Again, what?”

They roll their eyes playfully, an amused smile on their face, as they lean over the table and whisper, “Suguru, I'm giving you an out.”

He blinks, and suddenly everything clicks, and he doesn’t understand why he’s still here when they just told him they could go to you. He stands up abruptly and says, “Right, I'm...“

“Don't say you're sorry; make it up to me by going to them, yeah?”

“I really appreciate that. Uhm, text me and I'll give you pointers on Gojo?”

They laugh and nod. “Yeah. Now, shoo, go to the one you actually want to be with.”

Suguru turns his head toward the exit of the restaurant, ready to leave, but pauses and ends up turning back to his ‘date’, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“Mhm! Also, I want to meet them sometime, k? We’re friends now, sorry!”

“Yeah… Yeah, you can. Someday? Maybe…”

They tilt their head at him, unamused despite the smile on their face. “Bye Suguru.”

He returns the smile and waves before heading off to find you.

☆☆☆☆

You found yourself under a tree somewhere on campus, attempting—and failing—to entertain yourself since Suguru was busy and couldn't hang out, and you didn't even dare try to go to Shoko for entertainment, knowing her face is probably stuffed into her textbook and she would berate you for interrupting her, or if she did agree, she would spend the whole time with her whole face screaming how she would much rather be studying, even when her studying proves to be just for fun because she cheats on her exams anyway, but you digress. Lost in thought, you don't notice how someone’s approached you until their shadow falls over you.

“You dead?”

You look up and are pleasantly surprised to see Suguru. “Hey! I thought you were busy?”

Suguru shrugs. “Left early.”

“What’d you go do anyway?”

“A date.”

The minute the words leave Suguru’s mouth, you can feel your stomach churn in a horrible way. like you’re on a rollercoaster, but it's not fun; you want to get off, and you want to get off now, like this is final destination and you’re about to fall to your doom. Or more so, this makes you realize you've already fallen to your doom; you've already fallen in love with Suguru, and it took Shoko saying something and him going on a date for it to really sink in like it hadn't been there all along. Your jaw clenches, and you're quiet—terrifyingly quiet—and it makes Suguru regret saying anything; he doesn’t even know why he did... Okay, no, he knows. He knows he was acting petty and wanted to rub it in your face like you rub your dates in his, even if not purposeful, and besides, you two are friends, and friends are honest with each other. But maybe he shouldn’t have been, and it's excrutiatingly obvious he shouldn't have been when you suddenly stand up and avoid his gaze.

“Y/N?”

You kick at the dirt under your shoes and mumble, “I should, um, Shoko actually just texted me.”

“Y/N, can you look at me, please?” Suguru sounds desperate.

You look up at him and smile, but with the way your eyes are glazed over, it’s like you’re not even there. “Yeah?” 

“I thought we could hang out now?” 

“Yeah, but—ugh—Shoko really needs my help, you know?”

“Are we still on for tomorrow at least?”

“I hope your date was good, Suguru.”

“Y/N-“

“If I keep her waiting any longer, she’ll be really mad. I’m gonna go.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suguru wishes he could say he’s surprised when you don’t show up to class the next day, but he’s not. Not at all. Especially from the way you ran off yesterday to how you’re still not answering any of his texts or calls, it was a telltale sign that Suguru would not be seeing you today. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Of course not. So halfway through class, he left—not like he was paying attention anyway—and made his way to your dorm. Though he hesitates to knock once he’s actually there, he doesn’t even know why you’re ignoring him in the first place, and honestly? He’s scared to find out.

You’ve never acted like this with him before; you’ve always been an open book, always the first to speak up if something he did upset you, so he doesn’t understand why you’ve suddenly done a complete 180. He takes a deep breath before knocking. He came all this way; he isn’t going to just leave without figuring out what's wrong—or at least he’s going to try to figure out what's wrong.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

Suguru groans as he goes to knock one more time, but before he can, the door is swung open, and he’s met with a disheveled-looking Shoko.

“What?”

“Shoko, hi—“ Suguru gives her a quick once-over. "Sorry, were you asleep?”

She crosses her arms and blows a tuft of hair out of her face. “I was, and I'd like to go back to sleep, so-“

“Right, sorry, uh, is Y/N here?”

“No,” she replies quickly, far too quickly that Suguru doesn't believe her and instead tries to look into the room to find you. Shoko immediately picks up on this and shifts her body to cover any gaps he could look through. “They aren’t here, sorry.”

“Shoko,” he monotones.

She chews the inside of her lip and looks away, and Suguru can tell she's dying to say something, but she ultimately decides against it and shakes her head, looking back up at him.

“They’re not here, sorry.”

Suguru sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It's fine, sorry for waking you.”

“It's fine… Take care of yourself, Geto.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Shoko quickly shuts the door, and instead of climbing back into bed, she grabs her pillow and makes her way toward your bed, only to end up hitting you with it repeatedly. You pull your covers over your head in a futile attempt to protect yourself.

“Shoko, stop!”

“You stop.” She punctuates every word with a hit of her pillow.

“You’re the one hitting me!”

Shoko hits you one last time. “I mean, stop ignoring him, idiot.”

You peek your head out from under the covers, a frown on your face.

“Don't look at me like that; you’re acting childish, and you know that.”

“I can’t look at him.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Shoko, I'm serious!” You speak adamantly, sitting up. “I mean, I realize I like him the exact moment he tells me he went on a date?”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Shoko, I-I can't.”

“Whatever, sulk all you want; don't talk to him about it; I don't care; just scoot over.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“I'm tired,” she says blankly, now climbing into your bed.

You listen and scoot over, though it's more like she pushes you over. “You know you have your own bed, right?”

She yawns: “Too far away.”

You look down at her, and she's somehow already fast asleep. You roll your eyes and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling with your mind racing, and suddenly your phone vibrates. You know who it is; he’s the only one who texts you, but that doesn’t stop you from checking anyway.

Suguru<3: hey. 

Suguru<3: did I do something?

Suguru<3: I don't understand.

Suguru<3: you weren't in class so I tried going to ur dorm. shoko said you weren't there but I don't really believe her.

Suguru<3: can you just talk to me please?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

Suguru<3: guess this means we aren’t hanging out today huh?

Suguru<3: text me soon please.

☆☆☆☆

Thursday 

Suguru<3: no class again?

Suguru<3: look I get it

Suguru<3: okay maybe I don't.

Suguru<3: I don't know what I did wrong but if you don't wanna talk that's fine

Suguru<3: can you just let me know you’re okay?

Suguru<3: fuck I don't even care if you have shoko tell me you’re okay or if you tell gojo I just

Suguru<3: I just need to know you’re okay y/n. 

Suguru<3: how long are you gonna avoid me?

Suguru<3: or avoid class?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

“Can you answer your fucking phone,” Shoko snaps.

You glare at her and instead shut your phone off completely. “There. Happy?”

"No, not at all; I won't be happy till you stop sulking.”

You smile at her condescendingly. "You are so lovely; did you know that?”

She sighs deeply. “Y/N, you’re ignoring Geto because he went on one date.”

“I'm ignoring him because I'm in love with him.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “And he's supposed to know that how? I'm a hundred percent sure the poor boy has no clue what he did.”

“Shoko, you don't get it! You've never been in love,” you sneer.

“I don't need to be in love to know you're acting stupid.” She shakes her head. “You know what? Ignore him all you want; that's your problem, but you need to go to class; don't throw away your college degree for him.”

You sigh, finally agreeing with her on at least one thing. “Yeah... Yeah, I know I'll go tomorrow.”

She nods happily. “Good. Now can I get back to studying?”

“I'm not the one who made you stop, you took that upon yourself.”

“Watch yourself; I'll walk my ass straight to Geto's dorm and tell him for you.”

“…Sorry”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You get to class the next day extremely early and take a seat in the far back, away from everyone else, hoping Suguru would somehow not see you, or maybe more like in hopes you wouldn’t see him. It doesn't work. The minute he walks in, his eyes are drawn to yours like there was an invisible string there tying him directly to you, and your stomach twists as you see him approach you. As he’s approaching you, he sees your face, and he sees how you look like you're five seconds away from vomiting up everything you’ve ever eaten since you were born, so he stops in his tracks. Besides, a confrontation in the middle of class wouldn't be a good idea either way, so he’ll just catch you after class.

That somehow proves to be much harder than it should have been because once class ends and he turns around to catch you before you leave, you're already gone. He blinks incredulously at your empty seat for a moment before snapping out of it and running out into the halls, trying to find you among the crowd of people, which is easy for him considering you're the only thing that exists to Suguru right now and pretty much always, but even despite that, he can't find you. He stands in the hall, watching people pass him by as he does nothing, and the only thing he can hear is his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the rain that suddenly started sometime during all of this.

He finally snaps out of it once more and realizes that since it randomly started raining, there's a chance that you're somewhere waiting the rain out, unless you are so dead set on avoiding him that you don't care in the first place and walk back to your dorm in the rain anyway... Suguru hopes he's right as he starts walking toward the exit, and exhales heavily in relief when he sees you out on the porch and slowly creeps up behind you.

“Did you know it was gonna rain?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. “No.”

Suguru’s heart feels like it's about to burst right out of his chest, and he feels like it's been way too long since he's heard your voice. “I think Gojo is gonna bring me an umbrella; do you wanna wait with me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shake your head and start walking out into the rain, but you don't get far when Suguru reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Wait!”

You look back at him, your jaw clenched tight. “Let go of me, Suguru.”

“You’ll get sick.”

You yank your wrist out of his grasp. “I don't care; I want to go back to my dorm.”

For a few moments, Suguru feels stuck in place as he watches you begin to walk away, yet everything in his being is screaming at him to go after you, to not let you go. He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath this whole time until he gasps for air, and at the same time, his body finally decides to align with his mind, and he runs after you. You can hear his foot steps pattering against puddles, which only makes you speed up your walking.

Suguru notices this, and although he's still chasing after you, he decides to call out a pained, “Why are you ignoring me?”

You almost don't even hear him over how loud the rain has grown.

Almost.

“I'm not ignoring you, Suguru,” you say, stopping in your tracks with a deep sigh. He’ll catch you sooner or later, so maybe it's best to just get it over with.

Suguru doesn’t say anything until he's right behind you. You can hear just how clearly his voice trembles as he says, “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I'm no-“

“What the fuck happened? What are you doing?” and although he sounded exasperated only a second ago, when he speaks again, it's horrifyingly subdued: “This—this isn't us.”

You whip around to face him, a scowl on your face as you fume, “There is no us.”

Suguru’s face goes blank. No us? That's not right. That's all there is. There's only ever been an us because Suguru is not him without you. It's never just Suguru. It's you and Suguru; it's him and you; there's no him without you.

“What?”

“There is no us, Suguru; that's—“ you say, gesturing in little circles with your hands in front of you, trying to act out whatever word you're looking for. “That's the fucking problem.”

“I don't—“ His voice is breathy as he shakes his head in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“No,” he says sternly, "No, I don't. I need to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rain falling against your face rather than the words coming out of your mouth: “I'm in love with you.”

The silence is suffocating, and you're violently aware of how you can feel Suguru’s eyes burning holes into you. You swallow harshly before peeking your eyes open, and he’s just standing there wide-eyed, his jaw slack.

“Suguru?”

“Why now?”

With his voice so small and brittle, you hardly even heard him.

“Huh?”

“Why now?” he repeats, this time louder, harsher.

“I don't—I don't understand?”

Suguru laughs in disbelief. He brings his hands up to cover his face, and he just laughs into them or cries; he's not even quite sure anymore. And after a few moments of this, he finally takes a deep breath, running one hand down his face as the other drops back to his side. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with you, Y/N?”

“What?” You’re hopeful for a moment, but that all comes quickly crashing down, realization washing over you. “Wait, but you went on a date.”

“Y/N, it's been so long that Gojo got tired of me wallowing in my own self-pity every time you went on a date.” He sighs and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “So he forced me to go on one too to try and help me move on.”

“Why didn't you wait for me?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Suguru doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head. “No, I know, but I don't understand.”

Your face scrunches up in disdain, silently reading—what's there to not understand? “Why didn't you wait for me to fall in love with you?”

“Y/N, do you even hear what you're saying right now?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear what I'm saying? All I've ever fucking done was wait for you, and I go on one date that I left early for you, and now I'm the bad guy?”

Your heart sinks like a bag of rocks into a deep body of water. “No wait, Suguru, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”

Suguru looks down, avoiding your stare, carefully tapping a puddle with the tip of his shoe as he mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Do-“ you stop yourself and swallow harshly before continuing, “Are you still in love with me?”

He stays silent, and embarrassment floods your bones. How could he still love you? You, who's been subconsciously dangling a treat in front of him like some kind of animal just to coax him into doing what you want, into staying with you, following you around, just because you were too out of touch to realize you even liked him in the first place. Of course, he wouldn't still love you.

“Of course I am. Don't be silly,” he reluctantly admits.

Relief washes over you, and the breath you take feels like the first one you've taken since Tuesday, when he told you about his date in the first place. “So... now what?”

The same relief does not wash over Suguru; in fact, he's feeling anything but relief. Too many things to name, to pin point; it's just all too much. This is just too much. “I need space; I can't—" he shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I can't do this right now.”

“What?”

“I just. I can't. I'm sorry.”

Your voice cracks, “But-“

“I just need to think about this,” he says, waving his hands around in small circles, referencing the two of you.

“Oh.” You take a step back and nod. “Okay. I'll go then... I love you, Suguru.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Suguru watches you walk away, and he can't tell his tears apart from the rain; can’t tell if his heart is stopping or if it's racing; can't tell if he's breathing or suffocating; he can't tell anything. His surroundings are drowning out and blurring into vague shapes and figures around him, and Suguru is sure he could just drop dead right then and there.

“Jeez, I didn't take that long that you had to walk out in the rain, dramatic much?”

Suguru, in all honesty, didn’t hear a word that was just said; the only thing that caught his attention was the lack of rain hitting him. He looks up to find an umbrella there instead of the dark cloudy sky that resembled his insides a little too much, then looks to his side to find Gojo there, and he wants to wipe the stupid grin off his face. If he can't be happy, why should Gojo? His head drops in defeat at his own thoughts. God, he’s acting shitty.

“Sorry.”

Gojo looks at him curiously. “You good?”

“No. No, I'm not good.”

"Hey dude, what's wrong?”

Suguru lets out a harsh laugh, and with no rain hitting him anymore, he knows for sure the thing dripping down his face is tears. “I fucked up.“

Gojo scans Suguru’s face frantically, looking for something—anything—that will tell him what's wrong with his best friend.

“Suguru, you have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Y/N loves me back.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed, and he gives a confused smile because how could this warrant his friend’s reaction? “What dude, that's gr-“

Suguru quickly cuts him off: "Great, I know, but I told them to give me space, Gojo.”

Frankly, Gojo isn't even worried anymore; he’s just in complete disbelief, shouting, “What? Why the hell would you do that?! Are you stupid?”

“Maybe!” he shouts back, trembling. “I don't know! They just— They went on about how I should've waited for them, and I was mad because that's all I've ever fucking done. I don't know; I wasn't thinking straight, and I fucked up, and they left. I made them leave. I asked for space when I hated all the space we've had from each other this whole week, and I asked for more?” He repeatedly hits his forehead with his palm, muttering, “I'm an idiot, fuck.“

“Suguru.”

“What?”

Gojo tilts his head at him. “Why are you still here?”

The question stills his movements, his hand falling back to his side, and he stares at Gojo in pure confusion. “What?”

“You obviously know that space isn't what you want, and you just said it in the heat of the moment, so why are you still here?”

Suguru is silent.

“Why aren't you running after them? They want you, dude! And you want them too!”

Suguru thinks if it weren’t for Gojo constantly moving, he'd think time had completely stopped in time with his realization on how he’s a complete moron.

“Suguru.”

Suguru sighs. “I hate when you're right; you know that?”

Gojo perks up knowing that he got through to Suguru; he coos sing-song, “If that were true, you'd hate me all the time.”

Suguru nods, “I do.”

“Oh, shut up." Gojo extends the handle of his umbrella toward Suguru. “Do you want my umbrella?”

“No, it’s fine; I’m already wet,” Suguru says, looking down at his soaked clothes as he wipes any remaining tears away. “What’s a little bit more water?”

“Good luck, Suguru.”

“Thanks Gojo.”

☆☆☆☆

You walk into your dorm slowly, in a daze-like state. Honestly, you don't even remember walking here; you just remember your fight? confession? argument? — your something with Suguru, and then there's a lapse in your memory, and now you're here.

“Y/N, dude, you're getting water everywhere.“

You sniffle and look down at the puddle that's forming underneath you. “Sorry.”

Shoko tentatively stands up from her bed and cranes her neck down to try and look at your face. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You look up at her with a wobbly smile. “I confessed.”

She looks at you blankly, unsure if she should say something or if you are.

“He asked for space.”

“He likes you, and he asked for space?”

“I didn't tell you that—“

“It's obvious; keep up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, so he asked for space?”

You nod blankly. “Uh huh.”

“Why?”

You rub your eyes in hopes that not looking at Shoko will make the embarrassment lessen. “I said some things in the heat of the moment, and... and yeah.”

It doesn’t.

She’s strangely unfazed; in fact, if anything, she’s partially annoyed. “Ok, and you’re just going to listen to him?”

“What else am I supposed to do, Shoko?” you ask incredulously, glaring at her with your hands back at your sides.

“Fight for him? He likes you back, and if you said something in the heat of the moment, odds are that him asking for space was also just in the heat of the moment.”

“You weren't there, Shoko. You didn't see how he was looking at me—at how he said it.”

“Y/N,” she says disappointedly, eyes shut and pinching her nose bridge. “He's literally been so upset at you ignoring him these past few days; do you really think he meant it when he asked for space? Even more space?”

You blink at her, your mind gone blank.

“Look, maybe he did, yeah? But maybe he didn't, and you won't know unless you go fight for him.”

“I don't know Shoko,” you mumble skeptically.

She rolls her eyes as she rebuts, "At the very least, you can apologize for what you said.”

“I already did.”

“Again, this time now that your head is… somewhat clearer... Are you really just gonna let him get away like this?”

“…no,” you answer weakly, which isn’t good enough for you or Shoko, who’s looking at you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “No,” you say again, this time with true conviction behind your words—word. “I don't want to let him get away like this. I don't want it to end like this.”

She gestures toward the door with a small, proud smile on her face. “Then go.”

You look back at the door before looking back at her and nodding. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Uh huh,” she says, starting to walk back toward her bed, “and when you come back, you better not make another puddle.”

“No promises.”

☆☆☆☆

In an attempt to save whatever dignity you have left, you decide not to run down the halls like a shitty rom-com cliché; instead, you speed walk. Which, in hindsight, is probably even more embarrassing than just full-sending it by running, but you digress. You barely get halfway down the hall when you see Suguru. Both of you make eye contact at the same time, yet neither of you stop making your way toward each other, but you both slow down, carefully walking toward each other like two predators about to attack.

“You're leaving puddles in the hall,” you say quietly now that the two of you have come to a halt right in front of each other.

Suguru nods and looks you up and down. “So are you.”

You both stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. Allowing your presence to speak for itself, but it's awkward—too awkward—and it feels like your knees are gonna give out on you if you stare at him any longer in silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for you." He shakes his head, ignoring his own answer, like his very words aren't the most important thing to you right now. He came for you. “What are you doing here? I thought you would’ve been in your dorm by now.“

“I was—“ your voice grows quiet, “But I was coming for you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for, Suguru. I shouldn’t have said what I said; that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want space,” he blurts out, hardly acknowledging your apology, which he didn't need in the first place. What he needs is you, and it will always be you.

“You don’t?”

“God no,” he says vehemently. “Space is the last thing I want. I don’t want space from you. I feel like there’s something missing when I’m away from you. How could I ever want space, Y/N?” His voice cracks a little at the end, and it has your heart racing. “I was just mad, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

You have all of these feelings inside you, and you’ve cried enough today to last the rest of your life, so instead you find yourself laughing, and Suguru looks slightly mortified.

“Why are you laughing?”

You laugh some more before trying to catch your breath, and you take a step forward closer toward him as you speak through deep breaths, “I’m just so fucking relieved. I-fuck-I love you, Suguru.”

Suguru closes the space between you two, pulling you into his embrace, and you tuck your face into his shoulder, his cold, damp clothes doing wonders to soothe your now-burning cheeks.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“I think we look stupid standing here soaking wet and hugging...”

“Wanna make ourselves look even stupider by standing here soaking wet and kissing?”

You pull away ever so slightly just to look at him, and he’s staring at you with a smirk, and the longer he waits, the more furious the blush on his cheeks gets, and you can't help but stall your answer even more just for that reason.

“…matter of fact, yes, I do.”

Suguru grins widely but wastes no time connecting your lips together. The kiss is better than you could have ever imagined; it's gentle yet passionate all at once, and it's sloppy because neither of you can fully stop smiling long enough to keep the kisses consistent. And It's everything. He's everything, and you're mad that it even took you this long to realize that in the first place, but at least you don't have to worry about that anymore. Now you just have to worry about the fact that you two will probably end up getting sick from your wet clothes, but that's a problem for after you two stop kissing—if you two ever stop kissing.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[camthecatchameleon]

RE The Witchlight ask post (spoilers for somewhere around episode 40+): Something related to the Jabberwock fight. That tpk was crushing, Nikkie did it so well and I’ve not seen any art for it. There’s so many good moments from it, like:

-Gricko tearfully trying to tell Hootsie it’s okay and to just run somewhere safe and they’ll come get her soon

-Frost literally spending a turn just to beg in tears for the dragon to stop attacking, holy fuck

-Kremy trying to put himself between the Jabberwock and a clearly already dead Gideon

-Hootsie being the last to fall after hearing/seeing her entire family die. Thank the gods she evidently has no memory of that fight

Hope this helps/can kickstart ideas. Your art is awesome!!

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 46 I BELIEVE

that entire episode makes me SO ILL. you’re killing me. while i do wish there was more art for it, i also feel like there’s no good way to really do it justice because its SO PHENOMENAL.

UM SO FUN FACT

I've been floundering whether or not to post about a certain AU I made in which the Jabberwock fight wasn't a dream and they were brought back via fey magics (the King of Hearts needing them to fulfill their deal). Which leads to them each having massive scars from the way they died. SO THIS JUST FINALLY GIVES ME MOTIVATION TO RAMBLE ABOUT THAT YIPPEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways sketch of the jabberwock because THE DESIGN OUGH

[hyunnows]

A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL | YJI

In which Jeongin watches you chase after Seungmin over and over, waiting for his turn to have your heart.

PAIRING(S) | Jeongin x reader, Seungmin x reader

THEMES | angst, fluff, unrequited love (two of them), best friends to lovers, high school!au, best friend!Jeongin, lots of background characters, based on a love so beautiful (inspired by both versions), embarrassing and slightly humiliating scenes, crying, heartbreak

WORD COUNT | 10k+

RATING | pg

NOTE | I’ve been working on this for so long, I don’t even know why it’s taken so long. Literally like a third of Sugar Sugar written in 10x the amount of time. Anyway, I love the dramas this fic is based on (especially the k ver bc the main lead was more likable imo) and I really hope I did this au justice. Alos, its not meant to be a direct copy of the drama, more like inspired by a few episodes/scenes (you'll be able to tell which ones if you've seen either version of the drama). Anyway, I would like to thank my beta reader @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick, thank you so much for your help, I really did find all your feedback useful <33333 i hope you all enjoy this! Love you all, ty for all the support <3 have a great day/night!!

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“Hey, Seungmin~!” you call in a singsong voice, cheeks tinted pink as the tall, quiet boy stares at you nervously. 

“Hey [Y/N]…”

Shuffling closer to his ear, you gesture for him to lean down so the other surrounding students wouldn't hear. When he does, you cup a hand around your mouth and whisper. "I like you,” you giggle softly as you back away from him. 

Seungmin scratches his neck awkwardly. "No offense, but I don't like you…sorry.” His face drops as he rejects you in the kindest, bluntest way. 

“O-oh,” you rub your arms as you giggle again. "It's fine!” This time, your bright smile dims, and nobody notices how it doesn't reach your eyes. 

Nobody other than Jeongin, that is. 

Jeongin can see how there's no crinkle beside your eyes or nose as you play your confession off, laughing with Seungmin in an oddly offbeat way. He notices how your shoulders are slumping more now than when he'd encouraged you to confess, and how your head hangs as you shuffle back over to him. 

“So…?”

You frown, biting your lip to hold back your tears. Jeongin doesn't need any more confirmation than that to pull you into a tight hug. He caresses your head as you blink away your tears, an artificial smile on your lips. "It’s fine, I just have to win him over!” 

He frowns but bites his tongue. You can’t help who you love…

And neither can he.

He sighs, "Okay then, but don't be upset when it doesn't work out,” eliciting a shove from you that makes you smile softly as the light fades back into your eyes. 

——

“…and one teaspoon of pure vanilla extract,” Jeongin finishes reading to you, swinging his legs lazily back and forth as they dangle off the counter. He watches you with adoring eyes as you rush to find the vanilla extract, hastily measuring it and mixing it into the cake batter with big eyes. He pretends you’re his girlfriend, scrambling to make him a treat for a date—but as the tangy citrus scent fills his nostrils, it's hard to stay in his trance. He doesn’t like oranges that much, but Seungmin does—and that’s who the orange upside-down cake is for. 

You spoon the batter in dollops onto the oranges in the cake pan, doing your best to evenly cover them without disturbing their positions too much. And once you’ve smoothed the top—as Jeongin had directed you—you’re baking the cake, pulling it out fifteen minutes later to check its consistency and rotate the pan, fully concentrated on your self-assigned task. 

Jeongin continues his loving gaze, taking in your messy flour-covered bun and shirt, butterflies filling his stomach at the view. Something about the dim, warm lights and your adorably focused pout was making his stomach do flips—although it always did that when he was with you. 

When the first cake burns, he offers to help, smiling dumbly to himself every time your hands accidentally graze each other’s and mixing badly on purpose so you’ll come and help him. It’s a wonder how you manage to miss the endless flat-out doting grins he gives you.

“If you keep putting the icing on my nose, we're going to run out of it for the cake,” you giggle every three words as you swipe it off.

He flashes you his braces, leaning closer to you as he dots another glob onto your nose. "Oops, I did it again,” he teases, not minding what he’s sure is a prominent blush on his cheeks every time you playfully push his chest. 

It's only when you're handing the cake to Seungmin that he wishes the whole scenario had never happened, because you two are blushing, and everyone around you is cooing (although he takes the wish back quickly because it was one of his favorite memories)...before being disappointed when he kindly rejects the cake after a quick spoonful, claiming to be full. 

“I know he just didn't want to embarrass me because I'm a horrible baker, but it still hurts,” you mumble against Jeongin’s shoulder, your thumb tracing the outline of the cake box you'd bought earlier. “It must taste awful…”

Jeongin takes the box from your hands gently, pulling a fork from his pocket—don't ask—and stuffing a large bite into his mouth. Truthfully, it wasn't the worst cake he’s ever tasted, and knowing you made it with your own two hands during that wonderful afternoon with him that ended in cuddling on the couch and watching baking shows… oh, he’s prepared to scarf the whole thing down. 

“It's not bad [Y/N], look,” he says, taking another bite and wiping a bit of the caramel onto your nose fondly like he'd done that afternoon, “If he doesn’t want it, it's his loss.”

You flush as he asks to have the entire cake, and of course, you say yes. Honestly, if Jeongin liked it, that was enough. At least it wasn't going to waste. 

“Hey! Stop putting the cake on my nose!”

——

Your tongue peeks out your mouth as you put all your attention on the beads and clear string in your fingers. “Innie, can you help me pick the bead colors?”

“Sure, but doesn't that take away from you making it?” he says bluntly as he taps his cheek and stares at the different hues of beads organized neatly in Hyunjin’s jewelry-making box. “Red and orange.” His newly freed pearly whites sparkle at you in the natural sunlight. 

You scrunch your nose. “I was thinking of a color palette with more purple tones, y’know, because Min likes purple,” you mumble, unaware of his downturned lips at the mention of the older boy's nickname. 

Nevertheless, he's your best friend, so he thinks hard on what would look good with purple, picking out a dull blue and a brighter one, along with a glittery and a glossy purple, deciding it's all worth it to see your dazzling smile. He carefully picks them out in even groups, holding your hand in his as he pours the beads with his other hand, noticing how your breathing gets caught in your throat for a second when your palms connect. 

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” he whispers, not daring to say it loud enough for you to hear. His eyes disappear in his gleeful expression, his mind in a delightful daze at the thought that maybe he had some effect on you. You wonder if he can see the blush in your cheeks, but shake the thought away when you realize his attention redirected to cutting his own piece of string, picking out pink, blue, and white beads that he laces quickly and strategically. By the time you've managed to thread barely half of your—Seungmin’s—bracelet, Jeongin’s already tying the knot on his. He stretches it gently to check durability, then tugs at your wrist gently to slip it on, a small sun charm dangling from it. 

In reality, he's just not the type to say such things and do such actions at the same time—he’d much rather tease you—so he puts on a fake serious face and shrugs. “It's nothing, I just didn't want you to pick something ugly.”

Your cheeks warm, smacking him as you whine for a moment. You bring your arm to your eyes to admire the pattern, smiling and hugging his neck happily. "You're the best friend I could ask for,” and he grins back, satisfied with the position. 

“You're the best,” he whispers under his breath, quickly making a matching necklace for you to wear. As he pulls the craft onto you, his cheeks warm at the feeling of your neck just grazing his fingertips. 

With a teasing smirk, you eye him happily. “Did you just say something nice to me willingly?” A giggle interrupting you with every other word as his cheeks tint brightly. 

“And it's never happening again.” His face in his hands as he tries to tame the blush on his face. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you both burst into laughter, you're hopping over to pull at his face-fat teasingly. “You're secretly a sweetheart, aren't you, Yang Jeongin? You probably say nice things in your head all the time,” drawing embarrassed groans and weak attempts at pushing off of him whilst he laughs, blissfully. 

He groans, “I don’t,” trying to sound serious while you pinch at his cheeks.

Your hair perfectly frames your face as it tickles his, an almost halo effect outlining your figure. He doesn't know if it's just him, but all he can see is you, everything else dimmed out into the background as his eyes rest on only you. 

Then you pull away, laughing, with a look he has grown tired of seeing in your eyes when you look at him.

Friendship.

——

You’re bright and bubbly when you slip your gift into Seungmin’s desk, excited to see him sport a [Y/N]-original accessory and hopefully fall for you. 

Unfortunately, fate had another plan.

“Sorry [Y/N], I’m not really a jewelry guy…” Seungmin trails off, handing you back the box you’d given him earlier that day, all the bracelets inside and bundled. He tries to ignore his friend’s snickers, rubbing his neck nervously whilst handing you the small cardboard box, cheeks red in embarrassment.

You take it with two hands, barely gripping it at all with your shaky hands and blurry vision. They were laughing at you, and he didn’t like the bracelets. A quiet, "Oh, o-okay,” is all you manage to get out, biting your lip harshly as you tuck your hard work away. "Sorry.”

Seungmin gives you a guilty smile, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs, giving you an awkward wave, and running back to his group, who tease him loudly about you. He cringes at their jokes, hiding his face from you and walking away.

You think you should be crying by now, seeing as he rejected you, but you’re more ashamed because not only was Seungmin embarrassed by being around you, but his friends seemed to think you were a joke as well. How mortifying.

You hear a shuffling pair of feet approach you before you’re wrapped in the long, strong arms you call home. “They teased him and laughed. Laughed, Jeongin…” your voice shrinking in sadness. You turn to him, eyes watering. "Am I that unlikable?”

Of course, Jeongin tells you no. "You’re the most likable person I know,” in a reassuring, uncharacteristically sweet whisper. You sigh, causing him to hold you tighter to his chest. "They just… they need glasses,” evoking a light snort from you.

Turning into his chest, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing an “Ew,” from Jeongin, although he had been the one to initiate the hug in the first place. You mutter a shut up at his faux disgust. After a tight squeeze, you release him, pulling out the now squished cardboard and handing it to him, a light tint in your cheeks as your hands brush against each other’s. “What’s this?”

“He, um, isn’t into jewelry, so I thought you could have them. They’re too big for my wrist, and I’d hate to waste Hyunjin’s nice beads,” beaming hopefully at him. You open the box, pulling out your favorite and sliding it on Jeongin’s wrist, blind to the pure puppy-love expression the brunet was giving you. Cringing slightly, you frown at the fact that you hadn’t even asked him if he wanted the bracelets. "You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to—”

Before you can pull it off him, he yanks his hand back, holding around the bracelet tightly. There was no way he wasn’t going to wear a bracelet you gave him. Granted, you’d made it with the intention of Seungmin wearing it, but he’d take what he could get. "I-um, I’ll wear it. It’s a neat bracelet,” awkwardly releasing his wrist and dropping it to his side. 

“Neat?”

“Leave me alone. This is why I’m not nice to you,” he mutters, face flushed red.

You feel your heart flutter, but you assume it’s out of general happiness and not the fact that Jeongin wanted what you’d made. It wasn’t as if you wanted Jeongin’s approval or anything—you cared about Seungmin’s because you like him, and you definitely didn’t like Jeongin. 

Then why aren’t you able to stop the way your heart quickens around him these days?

——

Jeongin isn’t the most talkative, especially when it comes to girls. Despite that, here he is, spilling everything he feels about you to Chan and Hyunjin. He’d explained the bracelet when they’d originally asked, and somehow he’d ended up in a rant about how lucky Seungmin was to be the target of all your affection.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Chan asks, confused. Crushes couldn’t be that difficult, it should be even easier when you’re their best friend, right?

Hyunjin stares at Chan dramatically, causing the elder to lift his hands in a sort of confused surrender. "Are you serious? You don’t just tell your best friend of four years—who’s already in love with someone you agreed to help them win over—that you’re in love with them!I swear, it’s like you’ve never read a book.” 

Shrugging in uncertainty, he elaborates his former opinion. "It’s just, this all seems way too serious for a high school crush. And anyway, don’t you tease [Y/N] all the time?” Making Hyunjin roll his eyes.

“It’s his first love, it’s very serious!” Hyunjin argues, sweeping his luscious blond locks to the side. "And he teases her because he likes her! Plus, it’s not like he can stop, and it wouldn’t be weird, he’s always teased her. I’m ninety-eight percent sure she likes it.”

“Okay, since Love Expert Hyunjin seems to have all your answers, I don’t think I’m needed for this anymore,” the shortest sighs, standing from his seat on the bleachers and onto the field for some soccer. Chan may love Jeongin like a brother, but he’s not the best option when it comes to love advice.

Jeongin stares at the field, watching you as you cheered for Seungmin in the street-style free for all soccer game, wishing you were half as enthusiastic when he was participating. “I don’t want to try to win her over or anything, being her friend is enough… I just wish she’d dedicate herself to someone who cares for her at least as much as she does for them. I bet Seungmin doesn’t even know her favorite color…”

Jutting out his bottom lip in a pity-filled pout, Hyunjin soothes his hand on Jeongin’s back, nodding in understanding. "Y’know, she’s really lucky to have someone like you to always be there for her,” and he genuinely means it. He’s seen how gentle Jeongin was with you, even if he used a teasing front because no matter what, Jeongin’s always at your beck and call. You two could have just argued, and Jeongin would be the first to apologize and make sure you were okay, not expecting anything in return. His love was admirable and pure, and you got it all. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Jeongin nods, frowning as you hug Seungmin, making the boy cringe and gently shove you off. He wonders how Seungmin could so easily brush off your love, jealous and wishing you would hug him like that. He might jokingly shout “Yuck!” but he knows he’d hug you back even tighter.

——

“[Y/N], I don’t like you back.” Seungmin didn’t mean to sound so mean, but you’d once again smothered him in front of everyone, flustering him for the last time. Even as you began to tremble and tear up in front of him and everyone else, he stood his ground, keeping a stern face. "I tried really hard to let you down gently, but you seem to have missed the hints. Please stop giving me gifts and hugs and asking me out. I don’t see you that way.”

Blinking back your tears, you nod, hiding your beet red cheeks behind your hair and staring at the ground. Taking back the scarf you’d crocheted with your own two hands, you hug it to your chest, pressing it against your thumping heart in the hopes it would calm down the erratic beating. When that fails, you try to block out the murmurs from bystanders, and run for your home, your safe place.

While your best friend was never keen on you trying to make someone love you back—not when he was waiting patiently in line—he’s never wished you listened to him more than he does now

Jeongin’s surprised to see you outside his door, knowing Seungmin had baseball practice today, and because it was beginning to sprinkle. Regardless of your damp attire, he pulls you inside, hurriedly running to get you a towel. "What are you doing here? It’s starting to rain, and it’s cold as heck out there!” His concern raw, too lazy to try to mask it with a joke. "Are you crying?”

You throw your arms around his neck, cheek pressing against his strong yet soft chest as you nod, your tears dripping into his shirt. “He… he rejected me in front of everyone. He said he didn’t like me that way, and then asked if I would leave him alone. I made a fool of myself,” your words becoming incoherent as you squeak through your snivels. 

He clenches his fist tighter with each weep, and he’s sure that if you weren’t holding him so tightly, Seungmin would be six feet under by now. But since comforting you is more important than whooping some scholar-soccer player—not that he could do much damage, the boy’s six centimeters taller than him and he plays sports—he cradles your head as gently as he can with one hand and pets your hair with the other. “He’s an idiot.”

“No, he’s not, I am. I don’t know why I thought I had a chance…” You sniffle, shaking your head against him.

Jeongin tilts your face up to look at him, frowning at your glistening cheeks and shushing the voice in his head that’s going on about how you somehow managed to look beautiful even though you’re heartbroken. “Don’t say that, you’re amazing,” uncaring about how he’s probably the color of that ugly sweater Seungmin’s older brother somehow managed to rock.

You can’t bring yourself to believe his words completely, but the fondness in his eyes makes you want to because you knew Jeongin wasn’t the type to throw words like that around. Still, you nod, hoping you could one day be worthy of those words. 

——

Jeongin jumps when you slam the papers on his desk in front of him, a bright smile on your lips as you eagerly wait for him to ask you what you’re so excited about. He raises a brow, and you point frantically at the papers. “The school play? What about it?”

“I want to sign up for auditions!” You cheer, making jazz hands at the announcement. “They’ll be doing a romance play based on a student’s submission. I heard it’s really good.” Your best friend gives you a concerned look, forehead creased and mouth pursed. Well, that’s not the reaction you were hoping for when you told him. “Why are you making that face?”

Sighing, the black-haired boy stares up at you. “It’s just… are you sure you want to audition?” When you nod happily, he has no choice but to play the role of supportive best friend. “Okay, I’ll cheer you on.”

Your teacher comes in before you have the chance to elaborate on your idea, scolding you for not being ready for his class and eliciting a bit of laughter from your classmates—minus Jeongin, of course. 

Your teacher seems to be on the same page as you, though, pulling out one of the fliers. “Today we’re holding auditions in the auditorium during lunch, drama period, and after school, as well as staff signups. Anyone who participates in the school play’s production gets extra credit. If you have any questions, see me or the drama teacher after class.”

You shoot Jeongin a knowing look that he returns with a confused pout. He doesn’t know what’s up your sleeve, but he’s sure it’ll end badly somehow. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You definitely had a scheme up your sleeve, and this wasn’t the desired outcome of your plan, but Jeongin wouldn’t necessarily file it as a ‘fail’. 

Originally, you planned on auditioning for the lead female part, while Seungmin would take the lead male, a part that everyone wanted him to play. You two would play as lovers, and eventually Seungmin would fall for you too and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. That was the plan. 

You knew that you needed someone to audition with, since they were allowing pairs to audition, and you already knew Seungmin would most likely refuse to audition with you. That’s why you brought Jeongin along. You hoped they’d see your star talent and recruit you to the cast while telling Jeongin he just didn’t make the cut—which he’d be fine with, once he understood your plan. That’s how everything was supposed to go down. 

And somehow, everything is going according to plan. 

You auditioned with complete confidence, and you did well. Acting’s one of your talents—not that you had an abundance of them, you just had a knack for pretending to be different people and characters—at least, you thought so.

Mr. Kim—the drama teacher—reads the casting aloud, so far, Seungmin got the lead male, Jeongin was cast as a random villager, and now it was your turn. “[Y/N]... you’ll play villager three and be in charge of the music…”

He continues to read out everyone else’s parts, but you can’t hear him. You didn’t get the part? But you did so well, right? Why didn’t they pick you?

Jeongin watches your crestfallen face, sighing inwardly because he knows nothing would be worse for you than watching Seungmin pretend to be utterly in love with another girl. He knows why you didn’t get the part, but he also knows that you put your all into that audition because you wanted to be Seungmin’s partner, so he feels bad. After all, his feelings for you only made him wish for you to be happy, and being the lead would’ve made you happy. Still, he can’t help the tiny bit of relief he feels because you won’t be playing the part of Seungmin’s lover. 

Someone hands you a recorder, you don't know who, as well as a sheet with different sound effects and songs for you to gather listed. Great. Not only do you play an unimportant side character, you're also in charge of putting together the romantic soundtrack and sound effects. Why did these things always happen to you?

“Don't worry [Y/N], we can have fun getting the songs and music together.” Jeongin smiles comfortingly, just enough to ease your stress, but you’re still upset at today’s outcome. Sensing the irritation in your stature—the way you furrow your brows and chew your nails are dead giveaways—the boy sighs, pulli by you along with him to collect a script. “Besides, it’s not the end of the world, there will be another play in a few months anyway.”

You nod, but honestly, you’re too bummed to pay him any real attention right now. Jeongin, sighing inaudibly, picks up your backpacks and pulls your sulking figure along towards the school’s exit. 

Pouting, you lean your head on his shoulder. “I thought I did so well…” 

The brunet ruffles your hair affectionately, giving you a small smile. “You did, it’s their loss they didn’t pick you.” His words make your lips quirk up. 

Turning to face him, you lift a brow at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Carry your own bag,” he mumbles, handing over your backpack with an amused grin dancing in his lips. 

You pout again, only this time there’s joy in your eyes instead of disappointment. 

Something about that smile makes you feel better.

——

“You must tread into the woods, find your true love, and ask for her hand. She’s who you belong with, your hearts destined to become one. Now forget about that other miller’s daughter and begin the journey!” You read, trying to put some sort of passion into your voice, but you can’t. The only lines you have pertain to Seungmin finding his love and marrying her, while forgetting about the poor second lead who you couldn’t help but relate to. And just to rub salt in your wound, you have the golden line. “Kiss her, and make her your wife. You have my blessing, to have a long, lovely marriage and life.”

Jeongin claps for you from your bed, his long limbs sprawled across the mattress. He doesn’t have any lines other than quiet repetitions of your words—for dramatic effect, but he doesn’t care too much for them anyway. Extra credit is extra credit, right? “That was great [Y/N], but you really should start recording the sounds and music. They’re going to want them for rehearsals.”

You slump, nodding. You needed to recreate horseshoes hitting the ground, birds chirping, water running and the crumpling of leaves, and then download the songs the production team had already chosen. How fun. 

“Jeongin, grab those rocks and that rug for me please.” He nods, reaching for the two large stones as you start muttering, upset. “Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” You groan more, shutting up only to record the rocks hitting the rug in an offbeat pattern to mimic horse hooves. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, because you only have to encourage Seungmin’s character, while he has to support you every time you scheme to get the older boy to fall for you. It shouldn’t be a competition, but he can’t help but feel that his situation is a tad worse.

——

“[Y/N], where’s the audio recording? We need it now!” Hana, the girl in charge of putting the music and sound over the play, calls urgently. The play’s about to start, and because of your constant sulking, you only just finished recording everything. 

Luckily you still have about ten minutes before the play begins, so you’re safe from being scolded. “Sorry, here it is.”

She takes it from you happily, readying it in a way you don’t exactly understand—hence why you aren’t one of the techs—and sending you off to get into your costume. 

The play’s going smoothly, everything’s in order and running perfectly. You’ve said your lines, Jeongin’s said his and Seungmin is absolutely killing his role. And then your voice booms through the speakers. 

“Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” 

The familiar statement falls upon the crowds shocked ears, and you feel all color drain from your face. That…that recorded…?

Your drama teacher glares at you, murder bright in their eyes. You can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. 

The crowd erupts into laughter and boos when the echoes of your words finally fade from the auditorium. All the staff and students behind the curtains are staring at you, some pitying, others angry and some disappointed. But that isn’t the worst of it. 

Someone in the audience spots you hiding behind the curtain on the east wing, “Hey! [Y/N] that was you, wasn’t it? You must really be in love with Seungmin, huh?”

You loudly shush him, hoping he’ll stop and the play will continue peacefully, but the odds aren’t in your favor. Someone behind you shoves you onto the stage, and you’re suddenly in the spotlight, frozen in front of dozens of people laughing. Your friends and teachers stifflong their giggles at your pathetically embarrassed state. 

You want to stand up for yourself, tell them to shut up and put their pointing hands away but you’re too mortified to do anything as a stray tear escapes your eye and your lip trembles. You’re hardly able to scramble off stage, muttering dozens of apologies to everyone watching. 

It’s hard to even be upset when all your mind can think of is Seungmin’s face of embarrassment—shame, because of you. 

It’s not long after the fiasco Jeongin finds you crying in a storage closet, and he shoos off some students who are teasing you far too much for his liking. 

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He asks gently, kneeling in front of you to see your face that’s hidden in your knees. You nod, burying it further and wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. He can’t help but think you look adorable so small, but he’s more focused on comforting you. 

Pulling off his jacket—he remembers how much you always say you love his clothes—and taps you with it. You don’t notice at first, but after he pushes it against your shoulder a few more times, you slowly peel yourself out of your [Y/N]-cocoon. Your face instantly lights up, just a bit when you catch sight of his jacket and you don’t hesitate to wrap yourself in it and scoot over for him to seat himself beside you on the step stool. 

He takes the spot, and you immediately lean on his shoulder as his large, lanky arm wraps around you in a comforting embrace. “You wanna talk or just stay here quietly a bit longer?”

“Just stay quiet for a bit…” your shaky voice mutters, heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. 

The storage closet opens again, only this time Seungmin stands in the doorway, face blank and eyes void of anything other than disappointment. 

He lets out a deep sigh before mumbling quietly. “Why do you ruin everything? Couldn’t you put your feelings aside for once and get your job done once? You embarrassed us both, all because you have a stupid crush on me. I told you I’m not interested, get over it, please.”

Jeongin’s about to open his mouth, fed up with Seungmin’s ass of an attitude toward you when you kick the door closed, shoving Seungmin out so you can sob into the younger boy’s sleeves in peace. You don’t want to see him, not now. You don’t really want to see anyone.

Except Jeongin.

——

“You need to apologize to her,” the shorter male demands, feet making squishy sounds with every step from the wet grass he chased Seungmin through. Jeongin may not always be the most affectionate or sweet friend, but he’s your best friend for a reason and he’s determined to keep you happy at all costs. Which includes making Seungmin apologize for his harsh words after the play. 

The older boy rolls his eyes. “Why should I? I was giving honest, helpful criticism. Plus, she’ll get over me faster if she hates me.”

Jeongin has no clue why you like him so much. 

Seungmin seems just about done with this conversation, turning to walk away, when he hears Jeongin huff under his breath. “And here [Y/N] said she liked you for your kindness. I don’t know where she got that idea from, you’re obviously a jerk…”

Seungmin doesn’t care about people’s opinions of him, but something about Jeongin’s word choice (specifically the word jerk) strikes a chord in him. . 

Which is how he finds himself in front of your door, Jeongin beside him with a semi-smug look as the older boy knocks on your door. 

“Who—Seungmin…? What-what’re you doing here…?” You shrink slowly, not in the mood for more insults. Not to mention that you’re just a bit traumatized from last week’s fiasco and that you’ve been skipping school to avoid the mental and emotional torment you’re sure is to come. 

He feels genuinely bad when he notices the tremble in your lip whilst you slide the door closed just a bit more to hide behind it. Handing you an envelope, he bows. “I’m sorry about what I said [Y/N]. I didn’t mean to be so rude and insensitive. There’s a longer apology in the envelope, feel free to read it or throw it away. Have a good night and come back to school soon. All of your classmates miss you.”

You doubt that last statement a bit. As far as you know, the whole school hates you, but you appreciate the idea that someone missed your presence. You give Seungmin a small bow and mouthed thank you just before he leaves. For the first time, you think he genuinely smiles at you. It's small, but real.

Rushing Jeongin inside, you melt against the door, clutching the envelope to your chest. “Did Kim Seungmin just… apologize to me…?”

In all the years you’ve known Seungmin, he’s never been one to apologize. He’s usually not in the wrong, so most of the time there’s no need for him to. Still, on the rare occasion he is on the wrong side, he almost never takes the initiative to own up to his mistakes. He’d much rather let time do its thing and wait for the incident to blow over and be forgotten. 

So you can’t help but feel both shocked and even a bit special to have a written apology from the brown eyed golden boy. 

Jeongin nods triumphantly. “Yep.” He wants to tell you that he’s the reason behind this, but he can’t ruin the way you must be feeling. If thinking Seungmin apologized completely of his own accord made you happy, then he’d allow you to believe that. 

As long as you’re happy, Jeongin doesn’t really care about anything else. 

However there are times when he wishes he could put his own feelings first.  

Slowly since the play, Seungmin had accidentally begun to sneak into your friend group. Suddenly he hangs out with you and Jeongin during lunch. He’s in the library with the two of you, making sure you’re actually studying. He’s even invited the two of you out to eat and hang out a few times over the past three months. It should be odd—the way he wormed into your group, but it happened so gradually that by the time either of you had noticed, he’d become part of your duo-now-trio. 

So it’s only natural that when your annual trip to Chan’s lake house rolls around, you invite him. 

While Jeongin’s fine with Seungmin—there are times where they seem to have been best friends since birth—he can’t help but feel almost possessive of the time he’s supposed to have with you. As much as he hates it, he knows Seungmin will effortlessly steal that time from him. 

“So you’ll come?” You giddily ask the taller boy, bouncing on the heels of your feet. 

Please say no. Please, please, please say no. For once, Jeongin wants Seungmin to reject you, wholeheartedly too. You do it all the time, don’t make this different!

The older boy thinks for a moment, typing something into his phone a moment before it lights up again, and nods silently with a small, almost unnoticeable grin. Flashing his screen, Jeongin realizes he’d been asking permission—which unfortunately, he was given. 

Fantastic. 

Don’t be fooled, since the incident, Jeongin has come to find that Seungmin is actually a great guy and wonderful company that he thoroughly enjoys on most occasions. They’ve completely warmed up to each other. But he knows that you’re still utterly in love with Seungmin, maybe even more than before, and he doesn’t think he can stand being around you two in a casual setting for more than a few hours. 

Still, he bites his tongue. If you’re happy, he’s happy. 

At least that’s what he tells himself during the car ride whilst you stare in awe at the older boy for most of the ride, trying and managing to convince him to let you sleep on his broad shoulder. He repeats this in his head over and over during the board games you all play where you beg Seungmin to let you be in his team—which he grants you after a bit of friendly teasing. By dinner time Jeongin has a headache from the mantra, almost disgusted by just watching you feed the sophomore by spoonfuls. He’s ready for bed before nine-thirty. 

However, his plans for sleeping—and evading Seungmin and you—are halted when Minho—a mischievous friend of Chan’s—decides to play some party games. You all play twenty questions, an age-appropriate few rounds of never have I ever (Chan and Hyunjin would have your heads if you or Jeongin were exposed to any sort of adult materia) and now you’re playing a game of secrets. 

Everyone gets a strip of paper and a pencil for them to write their secret on. Once everyone’s done, the strips are put in a bowl, mixed around, and picked out at random. You can’t tell anyone what you wrote or picked from the bowl, regardless if it's your own secret. 

Somehow it’s simultaneously harmless and filled with potential drama. You give props to Jisung (Minho and Hyunjin’s friend) for bringing up the game, so long as you pick Seungmin’s secret. 

Though it’s not exactly a secret, you haven’t confessed to Seungmin since before the incident, and you think you’ve been subtle about your feelings since then, so you pick that as your secret. In your tidy handwriting, you spell out “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin.”

Beside you, Jeongin contemplates what he wants to write for a moment longer than you do. He can reveal anything he’d like. That he’s jealous of Hyunjin’s height, that he actually looks up to Changbin more than he’d like to admit, that he failed his last English quiz, or that…

He likes you as something way more than friends. 

He’s sure about half of his friends already know, and that Seungmin is probably suspicious of it, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. And plus, they’re anonymous… So what's the harm?

He ponders his decision a bit more, before essentially saying fuck it and professing his feelings for you with a short, “I have a crush on [Y/N].”

After about another minute or so, all the paper strips are stuffed into a glass bowl Jeongin thinks looks an awful lot like a fishbowl, and mixed around violently by Han. Then, everyone reaches in and pulls out one strip each. 

You can’t contain your curiosity, immediately unfolding the strip and reading its contents. Your eyes widen and you struggle to hold in your gasp of disbelief. 

Your cheeks burn as you reread the sentence. “I have a crush on [Y/N].” 

Too focused on the secret you picked, you fail to see how Jeongin’s soft smile of excitement falters into a slight frown. Your handwriting spells out: “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin '' on the slip of paper in his hand.

After he’s done reading his strip, Hyunjin reminds you of the rules. “Okay, nobody can say anything about the secret they got, okay?”

You all nod, but your eyes gravitate to Seungmin, who seems oddly calm compared to the rest of you. You don’t blame him, he probably got something boring—or your confession. The only reason you’re so excited is that you’re pretty sure you got his proclamation of love. 

Yet, in the back of your mind, I can't help but think that the handwriting doesn’t look like Seungmin’s.

——

“I got my own,” Seungmin pulls out the piece of paper from his backpack, handing it over to you with a shrug. “Why?”

As you read “I’m tired of school” in Seungmin’s handwriting, your brain strains to find an explanation as to why you just convinced Seungmin to break the game’s rules and show you his secret. I thought… “Oh, I was just curious!”

As always, he shrugs it off. 

If it wasn’t Seungmin… then who was it? It couldn’t be Chan, he’s too brotherly, and Hyunjin is always talking about who he’s in love with that week, you would know if it was him. Which leaves you with only one person you can think of. 

Jeongin. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t be mad if Jeongin had a crush on you. But if he did, you couldn’t return his feelings.

Right?

You think back to all those times your eyes have locked with his, when you’ve ignored the pounding in your heart at the slightest graze of his touch. You can’t deny he’s the one who can always make you feel better, no matter what. That you would rather sit and argue with him then go have fun with someone else. 

To be honest, you can’t exactly say you’re not in the same boat.

But, he’s your best friend, he couldn’t have a crush on you. You flush as you try to reason with yourself. There’s just no way. Plus he likes—

You stop. Come to think of it, you’ve never known Jeongin to have a crush on anyone. He’s never once confided in you about girls. “Maybe he just doesn’t like anyone…” you mumble, thinking of reasons why he can’t possibly have a crush on you. 

“Who doesn’t like anyone?”

You jump at the sound of Jeongin’s voice. “N-nobody!” you internally slap yourself at your stuttering. 

He doesn’t seem convinced, but opts for being concerned more than curious, “Why are you so jumpy?”

“I-I’m not,” you protest, trying to sound calmer. It seems to fail though, since he quirks his brow in confusion at you. 

With a shrug, he continues walking beside you towards your house. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re mean,” you scoff, immediately forgetting why you had–in fact–been so jumpy only moments before. However, it's not too long before you are reminded of your tiny predicament when his eyes sparkle in amusement and your heart stops momentarily. “Hey Jeongin, what secret did you pick from the game the other day?”

You notice him slump over a bit, “I got yours. Unless someone else in our group has a crush on Seungmin,” the glint in his eye diminishes. “Why?”

“It's just… I think I got your secret…” He freezes up besides you, a tinge of pink in his cheeks you fail to see as you stair at your toes. “Do you have a crush on me, Jeongin?”

Clenching his jaw a few times, he panics. Think brain, think. He stands there awkwardly for a moment. “I-”

Cutting him off, you start apologizing, “You don’t have to answer that, actually. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot–I get it if you’re mad at me too, since you know I like Seungmin–” Some quiet chuckles leave his lips, making you stop in the middle of your words, confused. “Why are you laughing?”

He ruffles your hair, pushing you playfully. “You think I would write a real secret there? No way. I just thought it would be funny if Hyunjin were to get that one and start some rumor or crazy quest to find out which one of us had a crush on you.” 

Your shoulders drop from their tensed position as you relax, beginning to giggle a bit at the thought of the gossiping teen losing his head in order to find out just who had a crush on you/ Even if you didn’t know him well, everyone knew Hyunjin was a huge drama queen who always needed to know everything about everyone. “Oh that makes so much more sense!”

Ignoring the pain in his chest that your apparent relief brings him, he keeps his small smile displayed for you. “So that's why you were all anxious. You’re so odd, [Y/N].”

You glare at him, pushing his shoulders jokingly. “You really are mean, you know that?” Eliciting a gentle laugh from the boy. He shrugs, continuing his path beside you to what he assumes is your home. 

He can’t help but wish he had written something different on that paper, though. Maybe then, his chest wouldn’t ache so much. 

And secretly, you wish it was a real secret. Maybe then, you wouldn’t feel like you’d been tricked.

—-

Jeongin finds it hard not to notice the way you’ve started retreating from Seungmin these days. As your best friend, the one who was always there to help you in your plans to win over the upperclassmen, it's impossible to not realize how you haven’t asked for his aid in such schemes. It's almost concerning at this point, the way you haven’t attempted in a month or so to woo the older boy in any way. 

He doesn’t mind though, not at all. In fact, he’s enjoying watching you spend your time on your hobbies and making new friends rather than pining over the boy who had broken your heart so many times.

“Hey, can you help me take these papers to Mr. Young’s classroom?” Seungmin stops at your desk, staring at you. 

Since finding out the paper wasn’t Seungmin’s, your feelings for him have slowly dimmed. Over the last few weeks, everything you felt for him just dissipated. He doesn’t like you back, and now, for some reason, you don’t seem to care too much about who or what he likes anymore. 

However, that doesn’t mean your attention hasn’t shifted somewhere else.

“I’ll help.” 

Your head shoots up to look at Jeongin, who’s already standing up and grabbing half the stack of papers, bringing the rest of Seugnmin’s face into view. “Can you watch my food for me?”

You nod at him as he walks out of the cafeteria with Seungmin. The silence between them is awkward, but not too awkward. They enjoy each other’s company enough to get along. However, with your odd behavior towards Seungmin, the two haven’t hung out much. 

The walk is quiet for a while, until Seungmin says, “Why did you stop [Y/N] from answering me?”

Jeongin shrugs, “She didn’t look like she wanted to. Why? Do you like her now?” he says less than playfully, failing to hide his disapproval if Seungmin did indeed like you now.

“No, I don’t like her like that. I was just wondering if you were trying to keep her away from me since you like her,” the older boy tells him nonchalantly. 

Jeongin almost drops his stack of papers at that, “What?”

With a slight eye roll, Seungmin continues. “You like [Y/N], don't you? Even if you say no, or don’t answer, I know you do. It's obvious. It is kind of weird you helped her ask me out so many times though.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Right,” the older boy sighs, “We’re here.”

After dropping off the papers, the two have a silent walk back, both of them uncomfortable with the energy in the hall. Jeongin couldn’t stand the thought of Seungmin playing with your heart, not again. 

Before the two reenter the cafeteria, Seungmin places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder, holding him to a stop. With a sigh, Seungmin starts, “I consider us friends, and as a friend, I’m rooting for you. [Y/N] was never right for me, and I was never right for her, but I think you two would be right for each other.”

The older boy releases him, pushing through the metal doors and joining your small circle, leaving Jeongin with his thoughts.

And his thoughts agree with Seungmin.

—-

“Did you hear? The school chose another romance novel to base the play off of!” You cheer in excitement as you set your school bag under your seat. “Maybe I can get the lead this time, I think I’ve improved a lot since last time.”

Jeongin looks at you as if you’ve grown a third head, plopping down into his own desk. “Why do you want the lead? Do you think Seungmin is going to play the male interest?”

He ignores the little green monster that rages at the thought. 

“What? No, I just want to be the lead, maybe redeem myself since last time I messed up so bad,” you flush. “Hey, you should audition too! It would be cool if we were both in the play!”

“I don’t think so, I’m not really into acting.”

You pout at him, shaking his arm as you plead, “Please Jeongin, please please please–”

“Fine! Stop whining like that,” he huffs, pulling his arm away from you. You gleam at him, making him roll his eyes with a gentle smile. “What a dork.”

You stop smiling at that, launching towards him, “You jerk!”

Just then, Ms. Lee walks in, a scowl on her face at your figure lurched over Jeongin’s desk. “[Y/N]! Sit down right now young lady!”

You hear your classmates–including Jeongin–snicker at you. He makes an L with his fingers under the desk at you, making you glare at him. Silently, you mouth, I’ll get you back for this.

He mouths back, Sure you will, like the menace he is.

Once again, reading your mind, your teacher begins the class announcements with the play. “We’re holding auditions later today in the gym during your lunch period and after school. Please feel free to audition, those who do will be exempt from the next pop quiz.”

Jeongin watches from the corner of his eye as you hunch over your desk, scribbling something down, then pop up again. Snapping, you get him to look over at you and see the message written messily on your notebook. “You could really use an exemption from a pop quiz…”

He sighs, grabbing a sticky note from his notepad, and writing back, “I already said yes, stop bugging me.” (He doesn’t actually want you to stop, he would prefer if you never stopped bugging him, actually.)

You stick your tongue out at him with a grin, turning back to face the teacher.

It's not long after that lunch time rolls around, meaning you’re dragging Jeongin away from his friends.

 “Where are you two going?” Hyunjin asks, a far too devious smile playing on his lips.

“We’re auditioning for the play!” You smile, to which the older boy’s eyes sparkle. 

“I wanna watch!”

Jeongin groans at the three voices, he really doesn’t need Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all watch him embarrass himself. “Too bad. If you guys come I won’t audition.” At that, they all groan, sitting back down on the lunch bench with frowns on their faces. 

——

“Jeongin, I got the part~!” You all but sing, looking at your lines highlighted in the script. “How about you?”

He purses his lips, ears slightly red. “They gave me the lead.”

You stop in your place, staring at him wide eyed. “You mean, we’re going to play lovers?” He nods. “Oh…”

“I can take back my audition if you want–”

“No!” You stop him, a bit too quickly even, “It's fine! It's just acting,” your face as red as his at the thought of playing his love interest. You’re just friends–best friends–and it's just a play, it shouldn’t be that weird. Right?

Wrong. So wrong.

You both can’t help but feel so stiff around each other as you rehearse your lines. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin can’t help but be oh so entertained by your awkwardness. Seeing the two of you bright red as you stumble over your lines to each other is just gold.

“Stop recording us!” You frown with red cheeks at Hyunjin, who’s phone is pretty much inches from your face. “Hyunjin c’mon.”

“No can do, you two are so cute,” he wipes a fake tear, putting a dramatic hand on his chest, “They grow up so fast.”

You all stare at him like a madman. Then, Changbin counts down backwards, yelling action for you and Jeongin to start the scene from where you messed up.

“I can be fun, if you want… pensive, uh, smart, superstitious, brave, and uh, I could be light on my feet,” he pauses, staring at you intensely, a nervous–but sweet–smile dancing on his lips, “I could be whatever you want. You just tell me what you want and I’ll be that for you.”

Jeongin tries not to think about how true that is.

With a lightly contemplative look on your face, you recite the next line. “You’re dumb.”

His smile grows as he nods, “I can be that.”

You mirror his expression as you turn around, skipping away and pretending to get into a car as he calls behind you. “C’mon, one date, what’s it gonna hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” you tease in an almost sing-song tone.

His smile falls a bit, as he stands there looking disappointed, “Well what can I do to change your mind?”

“Guess you’ll figure something out,” you grin, silence filling your ears for a moment before Changbin loudly yells cut!

They all praise you two’s acting skills, Seungmin included–though his praise is much less enthusiastic than that of the others. However, you don’t pay any of them much attention, your gaze fixed on Jeongin as your mind replays the way he’d looked at you just moments before.

You almost wished this wasn’t a play, but try not to think about it too much as you ready for the next scene.

——

You know your best friend is good looking–everyone does, it seems. Every rehearsal, there are students hiding in the back row of the school’s theater trying to catch a glimpse of his acting. You’re thankful for Hyunjin, who dramatically shoos them out of the room whenever he catches them. 

It's not that you don’t want people watching the rehearsal, it's just… 

Why are there so many girls with crushes on Jeongin?

It shouldn’t bother you, really. He’s just your best friend but even he is starting to feel the energy shift whenever someone comes up to talk to him. He doesn’t want to get any ideas, but he doesn’t deprive himself of enjoying your attention. 

He watches as you shuffle over to Hyunjin in exhaustion after thirty minutes of the same scene, laughing as the boy fawns over you theatrically, giving you water and a pillow to get comfortable with. It's comedic the way you two have grown closer recently, Hyunjin seeming to take the role of your mother almost. 

Needing to get away from the dark room and hot stage lights, Jeongin sees himself out, getting a drink from the water fountain. Straightening up, he leans against a post, silently reading over his favorite scene–not that he would ever admit that he had a favorite scene. He can’t help but imagine you telling him what you want in your home, saying you wanted to be a part of his life like that.

Doing this play, it's not good for his heart.

He heads back in for rehearsal not too much later, finding it too easy to get into character. 

Maybe it's the way you look into his eyes as you practice your lines, or how cute you look flustered saying these romantic words to him of all people. Whatever it is, it's really, really not good for his heart.

Or yours.

——

“Hey [Y/N]!” Jeongin calls after you, his jog slowing to a walk as you turn the corner too quickly for him to reach you. It seems this is how you two are now–Jeongin tries to talk to you, you run away from him before he can.

He wonders if it's because of the play–specifically, because of the kiss scenes he’s sure you're dreading. 

He didn’t think you would be so worked up about it–it wouldn’t be your first kiss, or your second, or even third for that matter. But you’ve been avoiding him like the plague since the last time you rehearsed the scene, the two of you staring at each other intently rather than kissing since it was just rehearsal.

Maybe doing this play was a mistake, he thinks, frowning to himself. A few moments later, a large, thin hand rests on his shoulder, and he meets the eyes of his personal cupid, “What do you want?”

“Well that's not how you should greet your big brother,” Hyunjin whines with a pout. He chooses to dismiss the younger boy’s you’re not my big brother, instead opting to talk about the real reason he sprinted after Jeongin. “So, how are you feeling? The play is next week, when you’ll finally kiss your true love.”

The shorter teen chokes on air at Hyunjin’s words, filled with embarrassment. “Be quiet!”

“Sorry! But really, how are you guys? I’ve noticed [Y/N] dodging you like she dodges her vegetables.”

Jeongin shrugs, “I don’t know. I think auditioning was a mistake, it's probably too weird for her, especially since she doesn’t like me like that.” He completely misses the look on Hyunjin’s face, continuing, “I’ll have to apologize after the play I guess.”

The taller boy facepalms, stepping in front of the freshman, “Don’t apologize–it's not your fault. Plus, that’s weird.”

Jeongin wants to argue, but decides against it ultimately, nodding in agreement with Hyunjin’s words. 

——

“What do you want?” Jeongin stares at you intensely, leaning against the cardboard car behind him. “What d’you want?”

You shake your head vigorously, tears in your eyes, “It's not that simple!”

He interrupts you, his voice more stern than the last time he uttered these words to you, “What. Do you. Want?” Lip quivering, you watch him ask you once more. “Damn it, what do you want?”

Eyes filled with emotions and tears, you finally get out a weak, “I have to go.”

The set workers are quick to cover the stage as they change the set to show you talking to your character’s fiance as Jeongin hides off in the wing, watching your incredible performance. He doesn’t know how, but you really did develop a talent for acting since the last play the school put on.

Soon enough, you’re by Jeongin’s side, the two of you watching as the teachers playing the older versions of your character play out their scenes beautifully, bringing everyone–especially Hyunjin–to tears with their performance.

“You did a great job, really,” Jeongin mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear him, but you do.

You grin at him, “Has nice Jeongin finally made a reappearance?” 

“Nevermind, this is why I don’t say nice things to people,” he scowls, turning away from you, only to be stopped by you turning him back to you. “What?”

“Do you want to get something to eat with me after this?”

He’s confused, flustered, and excited if he’s being honest. But he keeps up his nonchalant attitude and nods. “Sure,” fighting the tender expression ghosting his face at your happiness.

After a few minutes of watching the final scenes, everyone emerges from the stage wings, taking their places beside one another, Jeongin and you in the center as the leads. Joining hands, you all bow, taking in the praises from your parents, classmates, and anyone else who watched the play. Then you’re dragging him to your bikes, the two of you freshly out of costume, still sweating from the under-conditioned theater you had just stood in for hours.

 “Do you even know what you want to eat?”

You nod, beginning to pedal down the street towards the small food stand that always lingers by your school–a student favorite. You’ve already ordered two corn dogs, waiting by the stand as Jeongin pulls up. “What are you? Some secret speed cyclist?”

“Maybe,” you hand him his corn dog, “Can we go sit over there?”

He follows your finger to look at a lonely bench underneath a tree that's only a few meters away, a small, dim lightbulb just barely illuminating the area. “Are you sure? What if there are spiders?”

“Stop trying to scare me and move your butt,” you command, strutting forward to the bench. He follows with a sigh, dragging his feet and bike behind you. 

As the two of you eat in silence, Jeongin finds that he doesn’t agree with Hyunjin’s advice once again, speaking up awkwardly. “I’m really sorry if the kissing scenes were weird for you, I tried not to put a lot of pressure or anything into them, if that makes you feel better.”

You cough, laughing at his awkward apology. “It's fine. Don’t worry about it,” your words are muffled by the food in your mouth and your laughter–which triggers some sort of embarrassment in your best friend.

“Why are you laughing at me? I’m obviously nervous and apologizing because I thought that’s why you were avoiding me, and you’re laughing,” he can’t hide the bit of irritation in his voice, or the pink hue covering his face as your laughter grows, “And you’re still laughing. Why are you laughing at me?”

Taking a few deep breaths, you turn to him, “It's just, I was avoiding you because of the kiss scene, but that’s not the only reason why,” a weird grin on your face, “I spent so long, ranting to you about one guy who kept rejecting me, and there I was, unable to face you because we had to kiss for a play. And you’re apologizing for it, even though you didn’t even know if that was why. It’s just really funny seeing how this all turned out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you in a second, if you tell me something first,” you lean towards him, a strange glint in your eye, “Yang Jeongin, do you have a crush on me?”

He starts genuinely tweaking at that, choking on his food, chunks flying out of his mouth from the sheer and utter shock of your question. “What? Why are you asking me that?” He coughs again, his face becoming a shade of red that rivals that of a strawberry, “What the fuck why can’t I stop coughing?”

“I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t think you would start dying if I asked you!” You apologize, rubbing his back and offering the half-drank bottle of water in your bag. “I just needed an answer!”

“Why?”

“Answer and I’ll tell you why!”

“Why do you need to know? You’re so weird sometimes!”

“Jeongin,” you pause, hands on his shoulders as you look him directly in the eye, “Do you like me?”

He avoids your gaze, closing his eyes and mumbling an inaudible yes.

“I can’t hear you~!” He mumbles it slightly louder.

“I still can’t hear you,” you tease, your hands still on his shoulders as you push them back so he has to look at you.

“I’m not doing this. You heard me and you still didn’t tell me,” he groans with a pout in his voice, “And you say I’m the jerk.”

You laugh at his aggravation, finding it hard to take him seriously when he looks like a red crayon threw up on his face. He gets up from the space beside you, sitting on his bike and getting ready to ride home when you come up beside him.

“Hey,” you say quietly, making him look at you. You hold in the urge to laugh at his annoyed expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s obviously fed up with being embarrassed for one night. With all your courage, you whisper, 

“I like you too.”

"I like your eyes, you look away when you pretend not to care  I like the dimples on the corners of the smile that you wear I like you more, the world may know but don't be scared  ‘Cause I'm falling deeper, baby be prepared" ― Translation from Ysabelle's English Cover of "I Like You So Much, You'll Know It"

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[sgtbutterben]

i hope its okay but i did some fanart of @jekyll-doodles 's red lord from the "wakey wakey" au :3! i just love this design sm I hope I did it justice!

[celestialbruise]

Can you give Taxian-jun and Chu-Fei a happy ending in their timeline? ❤️🙏

let me just say I LOVE YOU for this!! this truly feels like fate, because the morning I received this beautiful prompt the first thing I thought of when I woke up was 0.5 ranwan and I spent the entirety of my morning routine thinking about a canon divergent fic where taxian-jun and chu fei get their happy ending then I logged onto Tumblr and found this ask in my inbox :’)

I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and some day I would love to turn it into a fully-realized fic, but the basic premise is a month before Mo Ran lays siege to Taxue palace and Chu Wanning dies, he has a dream detailing the event, every last gory detail. it disturbs Mo Ran so much that he temporarily calls off the plan, and while he’s busy thinking of a way to destroy Xue Meng that won’t have Chu Wanning sacrificing himself, Chu Wanning manages to save him in the interim. 

spoilers past erha volume six ahead!

to be completely honest I don’t know entirely how the flower works (I know about its existence but not much else) but in my head canon, aka for my own personal sanity, I do believe that there is a way for it to be removed, and in this AU Chu Wanning removes it, and though it would take time, and healing, in the 0.5 timeline, they would find their way back to each other, and they would never again part.  

I hope I was able to do your prompt justice, as I truly had such a wonderful time writing this<3

-

In the lonely dark, deep into the night, Taxian-jun woke with a scream trapped in his throat, desperately grasping a body that was no longer in his arms. 

He was alone in his bed. No longer was he laying siege to Taxue Palace, kneeling in the blood-spattered snow, holding a deathly cold, winter-pale Chu Wanning who had whispered….

Who had asked him with his dying breath-

“Mo Ran…forgive yourself.”

Mo Ran tore out of Wushan Palace like hell’s hounds were nipping at his heels, ignoring how the winter wind bitterly nipped at his cheeks, at the wetness staining his face, intensifying the chill and its painful bite. 

He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t be. 

He couldn’t leave Taxian-jun. Chu Wanning couldn’t leave Mo Ran.

If Chu Wanning left-

If he was dead, then-

What would Mo Ran have left? Who would he even be?

What would be the point of living in a world devoid of Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran ripped open the doors of the Red Lotus Pavilion, his feet automatically carrying him to Chu Wanning’s room, where he found Chu Wanning, lying in his bed, wrapped tightly in blood-red sheets, curled into a tiny ball, just as he always was. The sight both eased and aggravated something that seethed deep within Taxian-jun’s chest. He wasn’t able to breathe. Not yet.

In his haste he stumbled, almost fell, hurrying over the Chu Wanning’s side and without preamble or finesse, yanked one of his arms free from the blankets to clutch desperately as his wrist, searching for a pulse. Mo Ran only needed a single heartbeat to discern that, while softened by slumber, life did indeed still live inside Chu Wanning’s body. And then another heartbeat later, phoenix eyes fluttered open, moonlight catching on long, dark lashes that lifted to reveal hazy amber eyes.

“What-” Chu Wanning started, voice slurring with sleep, eyes only beginning to sharpen with that familiar hate when, without hesitation, Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning into his arms.

“Wanning!” Taxian-jun gasped, wet, against the side of Chu Wanning’s neck. “You’re here. You’re okay,” Taxian-jun said this as if he couldn’t quite believe it. As if he daren’t hope.

“Mo Ran!” Chu Wanning thrashed inside his arms, hitting his shoulders, but Mo Ran bore it. He wouldn’t risk loosening his grip even a fraction. If he did, if he was careless, if he allowed Chu Wanning to slip away from him, a ghost once more…..Mo Ran hugged him tighter, tight enough to break him. Tight enough to break them both. Soon, Chu Wanning’s struggle ceased. He stilled, stiff and awkward in the cage of Mo Ran’s embrace. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter, a question Mo Ran had no idea how to answer, unable to grasp what the question even truly was.

“Mo Ran?”

Mo Ran shuddered, pulling away, looking into Chu Wanning’s sharp phoenix eyes, eyes that glimmered with light, with life. Eyes that had gone openly, nakedly wide.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this Venerable One,” Taxian-jun hissed vehemently, his heart a painful beat inside of his chest as his hands cupped Chu Wanning’s face, forcing him to meet the fire raging in Taxian-jun’s eyes, the flames that threatened to swallow them both. “Do you understand? This Venerable One forbids it! I forbid you from - who do you think you are……”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gripped his wrists, pulling Mo Ran’s hands away from his face. A face, Mo Ran realized with a start, that was shadowed, filled with too many lines to ignore. “Calm down. You’re shaking.”

Was he? Impossible. But as Mo Ran glanced down to where Chu Wanning’s pale hands tightly gripped his wrist, he noticed his fingers flexing, curling around nothing, wracked with unceasing tremors. 

It was cold outside. He’d run straight out of his bedroom, dressed in only his inner robe….of course, he was shaking. He was furious - Taxian-jun was livid, filled with fiery anger that would not abate, that roiled through his veins like fire. It was maddening. It had nowhere to go. Taxian-jun couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make sense of it, why it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. All he knew was that he had held Chu Wanning’s cold, lifeless body inside of his arms, and it had felt real, in the way nothing had in a long, long time. Chu Wanning had left him. Chu Wanning had left him behind, and he wasn’t supposed to leave Taxian-jun, not until Taxian-jun allowed it, which he never would, because Chu Wanning was his, dammit. Despite his hatred, or because of it, Chu Wanning was Taxian-jun’s, and Taxian-jun was-

A cough crawled up his throat, and another, and another, until soon his chest was heaving, his ribs shuddering, his lungs bereft of all breath. Distantly, Taxian-jun registered the taste of blood filling his mouth, cloying and astringent. Taxian-jun felt like laughing. Mo Ran felt like crying.

But when Mo Ran saw Chu Wanning lift a hand towards his wound, a flare of panic ripped through his heart, an icy-cold, paralytic horror he hadn’t felt in years. Mo Ran caught Chu Wanning’s wrist, squeezing, needing the reassurance of a pulse.  

“Don’t. Don’t do it,” Mo Ran rasped, hating how his voice broke. “If you heal this wound….I’ll never forgive you. You can’t.”

Chu Wanning looked at him, brows furrowed, mouth set in a soft frown. Taxian-jun hated it. Hated how Chu Wanning would take this pathetic display as weakness. He was probably judging Mo Ran right now, sneering at him inside his heart, thinking him such a fool-

Taxian-jun almost flinched when the back of a soft, cool hand came to rest against his forehead. He felt his lips part, but no words came to rush out. No insults, no curses, no words of pure, unadulterated hate.

Foolishly, for a moment, Mo Ran wanted to call a name that he hadn’t in years, “....Shizun?”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning whispered, a cold hand cupping his cheek, a gentle thumb drying a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. “You must wake up.”

Taxian-jun stared at him, dazed. “Wake up?” He muttered, shaking his head, voice shrinking as he breathed, hesitantly. “This is….just a dream?”

The delicate jut of Chu Wanning’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, “Mn,” and then, with featherlight fingers, ever-so-carefully, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Taxian-jun’s ear. For a second, Mo Ran found himself leaning into the touch. “It’s just a dream.”

“I didn’t know,” Mo Ran told him, hushed like a secret. “It felt so real. This Venerable One….is confused. I’ve just been so confused, lately. It’s Xue Meng’s fault. This fucking wound - it hurts, all of the time. My chest won’t stop hurting. It’s driving me insane.” 

Mo Ran bit his tongue before he could reveal more. Even in a dream, it felt far too vulnerable, far too stupid to reveal such a fear. Mo Ran had ears and he heard all the rumors the people whispered below his throne. He was a tyrant. He was bloodthirsty, cruel, worse than a beast. He was losing himself. 

He was going mad. 

“Wanning, how do I….how do I know what is real?” Mo Ran muttered, burying his face inside his hands to hide his burning eyes. He was just-

Mo Ran was tired. So, so very tired. He ached, down to his very bones. 

“Lie down,” Chu Wanning murmured, guiding Mo Ran to the bed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

Something in Mo Ran protested this gentleness - surely it was only a prelude to more cruelty? But exhaustion was a heavy, pressing force. Inescapable. Like a limp puppet, all strings cut, Taxian-jun allowed himself to be arranged supine, and though every fiber of his being shied away from the almost gentle way the blankets were tucked in around his body, for some reason he couldn’t muster up the strength to bat Chu Wanning away, like he normally would have. In fact, Mo Ran couldn’t seem to tear his eyes, lucifugous and hot, away from Chu Wanning at all. And when Chu Wanning stood it was entirely involuntary, the way Mo Ran’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“Will you be here, when this Venerable One wakes?” Taxian-jun asked, and maybe he meant it as a threat, but it came out as a desperate plea. Still, the derision and contempt he had come to expect from Chu Wanning was nowhere to be seen on his visage which looked in the shadows, simply put, haunted. Conflicted. 

Lovelorn. 

“Mn,” Chu Wanning sat down beside him, and didn’t try to free himself from Mo Ran’s grip. “I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

“....I promise.”

Taxian-jun nodded, and though he began to drift, caught in-between veils of the living world and the insensate realm of black, his grip around Chu Wanning did not loosen, and he still found himself whispering a question, one he somehow knew only Chu Wanning held the answer to. 

“Do you think dreams have any meaning?”

Just before unconsciousness could claim him once more, a whisper rang through his ears, soft-spoken yet achingly clear. 

“Sometimes.”

Then….Mo Ran just wouldn’t go. Chu Wanning couldn’t do anything foolish so long as Mo Ran stayed to make sure he behaved. Right? He couldn’t let Xue Meng live, or that damn Mei Hanxue - but he could think up another plan. He had time.  

-

Chu Wanning didn’t know how long it had been since Mo Ran had cried in front of him. Certainly, not since he was a boy

That meant he was still in there, somewhere. A heart still beat within the blackened, thorny brambles wrapped around Mo Ran’s chest.

There was still hope. 

There was still a way back from hell. 

Chu Wanning’s breath shuddered as it left his lungs. 

He wouldn’t leave his disciple. He wouldn’t stand back and watch as Mo Ran lost any more of himself than he already had. 

“It will be okay, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning murmured, watching how the moonlight flickered across Mo Ran’s sleeping face, and how the knot of tension in between his brows only smoothed out when Chu Wanning squeezed his hand, tight, tight enough to leave his mark. “This master promises. I won’t leave you behind.”

[makittuu]

GUYS. GUYS.

I found this amazing fanfiction! It's going to be at the top of my lists for sure. It's a Steven Universe AU fic where an apocalypse takes over the earth; and corrupted gems and Spinel's pain are further explored 🙌

I drew Red, one of the characters from it! I absolutely adore the concept for this character; you should definitely give the story a read to learn more! 🙏 I really hope I did Red justice in my art 💕

Red belongs to @prophet-of-calamity

and here is their fic!👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50458486/chapters/127488331

She has a lollipop at one point in the story, so I drew her with a couple hehe!

Also, the writing is very masterfully done; it flows very well, is complex, and it's such a nice read!

FURTHER DISCUSSION, (IF INTERESTED)👇

Going into it, I was a little cautious, as I would be for any fanfic, just because it's about one of my favorite characters. Spinel is so much so one of my favorite characters that I really wanted to like the author's representation of her! It's obviously okay to think about characters however you want to. And to represent them however feels best to you! But going into this, I was really hoping to like the way Spinel was represented by this author! And I left feeling beyond impressed at the way the author handled Spinel's inner thoughts and the way she can be compassionate for others, but also feel trapped and overtaken by her thoughts and pain sometimes. She was never given the chance to fully heal, so it makes sense. And even if she were, she was hurt pretty badly; it's understandable if she never fully, truly and completely stops hurting over it. Healing isn't a linear path, and I think the author did a wonderful job of representing all of this.

AND OMG this story does such a good job of representing other characters in a way that feels so true to them too! Lapis felt so lined up with her character that I could even hear her lines in her voice as I was reading!

The descriptors and imagery throughout are stunning, and done in a way that made me feel fully immersed as I was reading. Even when I left and came back to keep reading, I felt immersed again as I got into it, which is hard for me sometimes.

On top of that, the author found so many clever connectors to link Spinel's character in with other events. I'm very impressed by it, and please go give it a read! <3

There's also a detroit become human reference in chapter two that really struck me, I have not heard that joke in a long time bahahahha 😭

I hope I came off the right way, I absolutely recommend this story! It's not completed just yet, but what's written so far is 100% worth a read all on its own, and it deserves to have a bunch of loyal readers! And it's so beautifully done, I'd still happily recommend it and believe how worth it of a read it is, no matter how long it ends up being in the end! Writing is hard and finding motivation can be difficult at times, and this author has done such an amazing job tackling this project, putting in so much care and developing all the characters so strongly! Even Red is developed so well that she fits in really seamlessly with the official su characters :)

Thank you for making it to the end if you did! :)

[animalsalvationassociation]

Has anything serious happened to Director Scratch? Like her getting kidnapped, hurt, falling ill, attempted life, etc.

(This is a back up one just incase my other one got deleted.... it tends to happen a lot.)

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Illustration Time: 8hrs 49min

BEAVENS TO HETSY—YA’LL HOW THE FUDGE DO I HAVE A 100+ FOLLOWERS ALREADY????? I AM SO EMOTIONAL RN IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY. IMMA GO CRY NOW GEEZ!!! (Go check out the 100 Goal poll before it ends. I’ve decided to wait the 3-4 days that it has left on there before I make anything, just to make sure everyone got a chance vote)

Thank you for you patience @kuri-kushmi ! I know you were really excited for this one, I hope I did our lovely Peggy justice!

Notes:

Yo is that young Inkling???? Whaaaaa????

Had a mutual threatened me when I sent a pic of Peggy crying. They were about to throw down, but its okay Peggy has tissues now. Her trauma is forever healed because of good vibes . . . yep thats how that works :)

I also wanted to preface this just in case I had any other asks that may be similar. Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it won’t happen in the future. The story has yet to be completely written so there is plenty of room for extra stuff to be added. I literally don’t even have a chapter written out . . . we’re working on it . . . maybe . . . I’m trying but my brain doesn’t want to brain! (stupid ADHD) I’ve been doing this for almost 12 years why can’t I writeeeeeee???

I should not have adult money . . . no I will not explain ur welcome

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[razzlerdazzler]

hi! can I request a little mermaid inspired au for Jack Frost and reader? kinda like where y/n is ariel and she could be a human interested in the mythical world as a subversion?

Jack Frost X Reader/ Little Mermaid AU

You two first met while you were in human form

He was pleasantly surprised when you noticed him, happy that you were a believer and that you could actually see him

However that happiness quickly turned into shock and worry when you jumped into the water

He was about to go in after you until you poked your head out of the water and a big, beautiful mermaid tail followed

After that encounter, you both quickly bonded and became fast friends, and soon started dating

He loves listening to you rant and talk about myths and folk tales

whenever you talk about your passion he's just staring at you with a lovesick smile on his face

He tells you about different spirits he's met that sound similar or are actually the characters from the folk tales or myths that you talk about

He even introduces you to Jamie and loves watching you both geek out over myths and different folk tales

He introduces you to the rest of the guardians, who are all very surprised and happy to meet you

He thinks its super cool that you have two different forms and always compliments you and tells you how amazing you are

Whenever you're in mermaid form he likes to admire your tail and scales

If you can sing then he loves to listen to you and always compliments you on how beautiful you sound

He also likes to lay his head in your lap while you hum or sing to him

He tells you about his sister and about how he died in a frozen lake

He also tells you about his experiences as a spirit and a guardian

He likes to call you nicknames related to your powers

He likes to watch you swim around and watch you do tricks in the water with your tail

Sometimes he splashes you, causing your big tail to splash him back, leaving him completely soaked

He likes to go ice skating with you and feels safe knowing that if anything happens while you're out ice skating then at least you'll be okay if the ice ever breaks

He likes to cuddle with you a lot, it doesn't matter whether you're in your mermaid form or not

He just wants to show you how much he appreciates and loves you

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this done. I hope I did your request justice. I wasn't sure whether you wanted headcanons or a story, so I decided to do this. If you ever want a story of this, please feel free to message me or send a request. Also please feel free to send any other requests you have if you want to. Sorry again for taking so long, I hope you like it :)

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 Fic: "For All Life and For All Time" (A CS Dracula AU in 3 Parts)

Author's Notes: Okay, so this is posted late, on a day that was luckily unclaimed. I struggled with doing justice to the work that probably began my love of all things Victorian Gothic, and re-reading it again for plotting and inspiration certainly didn't make the prospect any less daunting. While I love the original Bram Stoker novel's epistolary format, it was not something I wanted to carry on for an entire fic. Nor is this fully true to the original's narrative. I do hope that those who have read the novel and enjoyed it may find nods to the original to make them smile. I didn't want to make Killian the Dracula character - he is neither at all attractive nor redeemable in the original work - so he became my Van Helsing. Emma is the kick-butt awesome Mina Harker, quite a standout female character for that time, but I did away with the Jonathan Harker character altogether.

This starts in the middle of the action, then has a fair bit of reflection to bring readers up to speed. The next installment should have more action and pick up where this one leaves off.

A MILLION thank yous to @myfearless-love for all the editing work she did - my writing is quite a mess when I first translate it from my handwritten pages to a doc! She made it so much better, and I am incredibly grateful!!

A Victorian, Dracula-inspired AU in Three Parts

Please Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

**Also available on AO3, if you prefer

Part One

by: @snowbellewells

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the impenetrable darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces, making her stomach pitch and her heart leap into her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call the driver, beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words as she gripped the seat tightly. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma was nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches beside the carriage doors flickered wildly behind the glass sconces but barely made pinpricks of light in the surrounding night; deep blackness which had swallowed them since leaving the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Emma realized belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought by attempting to stare blindly into the void while they hurtled forward, and instead forced herself to lean her head against the seat back and close her eyes, resolutely taking deep, calming breaths.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow. It was a different sort of thrill which then ran along her spine - distinct from the chill which had settled on her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet friendship and from the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out in this last effort to ensnare the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian heights seemed to weigh on her more with every mile they gained.

Yet, despite the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. The Professor had turned Emma Swan’s already teetering world upon its axis. He was beyond description - no words could capture what his mere presence, his voice, a glance in her direction could do to her - a power no man had ever held before, because she would not allow it. And yet every hair on her body stood on end when he was near; her awareness utterly captured by the mysterious scholar. He had introduced himself merely as Killian Jones when they met at Aurora’s sick bed, but as they had nursed her together, even when their every desperate attempt proved futile, it had become clear his vast intellect, his determination and resolve, placed him well beyond the scope of any man she had met before - or likely would again.

By the time he had spoken the truth of the fiend who had siphoned Aurora’s life before their eyes, she could not doubt him, even in the face of the utterly impossible - a vampire.

This ancient evil, Count Dracula, had ruled his isolated corner of the world for ages, but in coming to England and extending his reach, he was a threat to all mankind. Aurora had been only a prelude to what he intended. A monster of myth and legend had destroyed her innocent friend, and without pausing for rest, he had stalked and marked Emma as his next victim, only she had the advantage of awareness and warning enough to resist.

Though the threat was deadly, and knowing what she faced - stakes and dark graveyards and the betrayal of her very humanity from what she gathered of Aurora’s end that no one would speak of in full - Emma did not wish to be shielded and to wait hidden in safety while others risked their lives for her sake. She would have her hand in it, even if that meant to some extent playing the helpless damsel as bait in the trap.

To Killian, it was personal as well. He had still been a medical student long ago, traveling to study folk remedies in Romania when he met a darkly beautiful Countess, lonely and sad, all too eager to join him on his travels. She had set his world aflame - first in joy, and then in ruin, for she had not been as free as he had believed. He had fallen for her, and then seen her drained of life by her husband - the creature of night who had proven nightmares lived and walked the earth. Killian had only survived that first encounter because the Count wished him to suffer. For years, Killian had studied and prepared. He had made himself into an expert much different than he had once aimed, and he had intended for his suffering to end only when his life, or the Count’s, did as well.

There was a fine line to walk, however, between justice and bitter revenge. When he had seen the desire for reprisal in Emma after Aurora’s death, when she learned of the indignity to which the young beauty had been subjected and the lengths to which the men who cared for her had gone to assure her peaceful rest, she had sworn she would see this Count Dracula pay for his cruelty somehow. That was when Killian had told her all. “Do not fall into that trap, Swan,” he had spoken softly, though the import of his words was unmistakable. “That way lies ruin - only wasted years and endless torment.”

His blue eyes bored into her very soul as he strove to make her see. “When I lost my love, my Milah, I sore revenge upon her foul husband, the vampire who murdered her without remorse. I was nearly consumed, and when I finally came back to myself, I realized that seeking only retribution would make a monster of me as well. That was when I took on the name Van Helsing, obtained my licenses and degrees with it in fact, in the hope of evading his detection while I waited and watched and the years crept by. I must pursue the course for the sake of all, but not for my own ends, my own anger and hate.”

He would not release her eyes, his focus searing as he continued, “You too must find a way to separate yourself, to retain your purity of heart despite the terrible mission you undertake. Do what you must to save all, but do so without letting it twist your soul with similar darkness.”

And so, in their desperate alliance, they all had their roles to play - Aurora’s bowed but unbroken suitors, and she, Aurora’s dearest friend. The three gentlemen had rallied around Emma, swearing to protect her in her friend’s name. And Killian, their worthy advisor and leader, had not yet steered them wrong. She wanted justice and what retribution could be found for the torment Aurora had suffered. None of them would falter. They had taken solemn vows. Now all that remained was to see the mission through.

Emma could only wonder how had her life been altered so drastically in a few short weeks. Such thoughts replayed through her mind in what was at first a rose-tinged procession as she recalled how bright and full of promise she had been when first arriving on the coast of Whitby for a holiday with her childhood playmate. It had been some time since she and Aurora had seen each other, and those first days on the shore were spent in a haze of sunshine and laughter. They caught up with one another’s lives as they shared tea and biscuits on the wide veranda of the Spindleton’s gorgeous summer cottage. They giggled under the covers long into the nights, whispering of Aurora’s debut season, the many eager suitors who had vied to court her, and her blushing fondness for her chosen fiancé Sir Philip Thornswood, Lord Briarling. They also chuckled over Emma’s adventures - how she disguised herself in men’s pants to move freely while researching her stories, and the various pseudonyms she used when submitting her pieces for publication, subverting the male-dominated publishing world. 

It had been an idyllic change from the crowded, dingy part of London where Emma could afford to live and work. Aurora’s family belonged to the upper echelon of society, well-known and old-moneyed, and Emma had been mostly alone in the world for as long as she could remember. She was discovered on the front stoop of the Widow Lucas’ boarding house as an infant, wrapped in a snow white baby blanket with her name stitched in purple as the only clue to her identity. Fortunately, the Widow Lucas was a formidable woman, well-versed in making her way in the world against harrowing odds. She had already raised a granddaughter who was now off traveling the continent, so she took in the little blonde foundling and raised Emma as her own, teaching her all she knew. Though the tough older woman - “Granny” to all who knew her, especially Emma - had been gone for some years now, Emma remained eternally grateful that it was her doorstep her unknown parents had chosen that cold dawn so long ago.

Granny had even managed to scrounge and save enough, and was willing to spare Emma’s assistance twice a week, for riding lessons - where Emma had met Aurora Spindleton. Though poor Aurora had been an absolute lost cause at equestrian pursuits, Emma had excelled with enthusiasm, and everyone involved was relieved when she took the slightly younger future debutante under her wing during their lessons.

Emma loved the freedom riding gave her, and Granny was glad to know her charge would have the ability to get help quickly and effectively if ever needed - and defend herself too, if her skill in archery and marksmanship was any indication. In truth, Granny had been secretly delighted. She had lived long enough to know just how dangerous the world could be, and she wanted to see her girl as prepared as possible without completely tarnishing her outlook.

Though Aurora’s family was of a higher social standing, they had always been welcoming and kind to Emma whenever she visited their townhouse in Mayfair. She sensed that they were glad their only child had found a practical friend who could provide a steadying influence on Aurora’s naive, head-in-the-clouds sweetness. Since gossip photographers insisted on capturing and reporting the doings of the peerage, her parents were certainly relieved that Emma’s tips and encouragement had kept Aurora from being caught falling off her mount or in some other embarrassing faux pas. Aurora, for her part, was so endearing and open that Emma couldn’t resist being charmed. She might have been cosseted and sheltered, but she was hardly the sort of snob Emma had expected to encounter when mingling with the upper crust during her lessons. Instead, Emma was pleasantly surprised to make her first close friend - a friendship that lasted for years, with Emma always missing the Spindletons when they left for the shore in summer, counting down the days until her confidante would return.

This year, however, she had received a request, along with a train ticket, to join them at Whitby. It had been wonderful - strolling, swimming, and lovely summer hours blending together joyously - until all had gone horribly wrong. If only the happy, haze of sunshine-warm days had not gone dark and tinged with blood.

Aurora had already been betrothed to Philip by the time Emma had arrived. Still, it had been lovely to meet each of the worthy men who had sought her hand. With not an ounce of malice in her slender body, they had each sworn their friendship and fealty, even after the troth had been gently rejected. Even without Aurora there to blush and smile sweetly while introducing them, Emma could easily see why her friend might have been drawn to each in his own way, despite the obvious differences between them. All the men who had sought Aurora’s hand in marriage were honorable and true, respectable and worthy beyond reproach. Their faithfulness to Aurora tested beyond natural bounds and withstood the onslaught, and Emma felt the protection of their bravery as they had rallied around her when she faced a similar fate. If only any one of them had understood what had preyed on Aurora before it had been too late!

Philip Thornswood, Aurora’s betrothed, was the most like her young friend in Emma’s eyes. Upon first meeting the landed peer, she felt the warmth in his large, chocolate eyes, his gentle strength and charm, and she knew they would have melted Aurora’s heart irrevocably. There was a sad sweetness to his expression, as if Emma herself returned a bit of his lost love to him with her presence. He had bent over her hand to gallantly kiss its back, and she had blinked away tears for the happiness that Aurora would never enjoy, knowing the two would have been well-matched beyond her friend’s wildest dreams. All she could do was press his hand in return, and give him a wordless smile she only hoped might express her bittersweet feelings.

Graham Morris, from the wild, rolling hills of Ireland - a cowboy of sorts, as they would call it in the Americas - was a man of few words and swift action, easily winning and debonair, but  also a bit rumpled and informal. He was clearly happier out of doors, more comfortable in the woods and riding horses than in a crowd of people, and yet his easy good humor and almost bashful regard could easily have swayed her young friend. He was an excellent shot, ever on the alert, and a godsend to have in their desperate endeavor.

The third suitor, Dr. Jefferson Seward, was a celebrated and innovative physician who had fought to restore Aurora’s health with every fiber of his energy. If the foe he had battled had been a mortal man rather than an immortal being, Emma had no doubt they would have prevailed. Though he was slightly older, he was thoughtful and doting; Aurora would have naturally been fond of him. The affection between them had been undaunted by her choice of another - so much so that when Jefferson had found himself losing the fight for her life, he had urgently sent for his friend, the renown Professor Van Helsing, expert on the supernatural forces, to do what he could not.

And that was how she had come to be in this rattling horse-drawn carriage, racing up a treacherous mountain path. The devious monster who had taken everything from Aurora - and who now threatened to drain Emma’s own life as well - awaited her in the deserted outpost at the end of this long night’s journey. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. Every few minutes, her fingers reflexively gripped her reticule, its strap looped around her wrist, drawing comfort from the small Derringer hidden within its folds. She also took strength from the knife secured in a special holster at the top of her stockings, pressing against her thigh. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Professor Van Helsing - Killian - explaining its purpose as he presented her with the clever sheath. He had been deathly serious about her safety, but there also had been a heated flicker of clear attraction when she shyly gestured to ascertain where it should be worn, a moment that had ignited a warmth deep inside her.

The gentle feathering of gray in his hair near his temples and sideburns reminded her of the vast experience and knowledge he had gathered in his life - the very things they were all counting on to help them survive. The deeper lines around his startlingly bright blue eyes and at the corners of his firm lips reminded her that he had once smiled much more than he allowed himself to now. It made Emma wish to see him do so again. Everything about the man radiated power and purpose, commanding her respect from the moment they met, just as Aurora’s terrifying affliction had reached its peak. 

They had not won the victory any of them had prayed for, least of all Lord Briarling. Emma had hardly been able to bear looking at the strong young man bowed by grief as she had boarded the carriage for her mission. Philip Thornswood had given her a hand up onto the step, and was the last to speak to her before Killian Van Helsing’s own farewell. The gloom in his demeanor made her very glad she was not leaving the young gentleman alone, but in the company of true comrades. Even so, she trusted that Philip would not allow himself to falter in their cause. That steady hand, such a gentle support for her own as she ascended into the carriage, might have trembled in the doing, but had not hesitated to drive a stake into the breast of one he loved most in all the world for the sake of her eternal soul.

Breaking from her reflection on the journey’s beginning, Emma remembered herself suddenly as an eerie calm seeming to settle over her surroundings. She was instantly on alert when the carriage began to slow. A shiver of trepidation ran up her spine, returning her harshly to the present and the task before her. Outside there was a foreboding, unnatural quiet, only the crunch of the carriage wheels and the sound of the horses’ hooves on the rough ground broke the eerie silence. They rolled to a stop, and Emma leaned from the window, intent on calling up question the driver.

To her utter confusion and horror, when she glimpsed the seat where the driver had perched, she found no one there. He was gone, and she was stranded alone in the dark. Uncertain of what to do, but knowing she could not stay on the desolate mountain pass in the cold, Emma exited the carriage and alighted on the ground. As her feet touched the rough stone and dirt beneath, some unnerving signal was sounded. The silence was broken by the howling of wolves - loud, spine-tingling, and coming from every side, all around them.

There was no way to outrun them, and as the echo and answer of their baying circled nearer, Emma knew there was no way through their number at any rate, even without being able to see. The horses stamped and tossed their heads nervously, panic driving them as instinct warned them predators lingered just beyond the faint circles of light from the carriage lamps. She would not leave them to be devoured; nor would she lie down and wait to be torn apart herself. She was nearly there!

Desperate and trembling, but steeling her resolve, Emma moved to the front of the carriage, intending to climb up onto the driver’s box, take the reins, and break through the pack, to drive them to the castle herself. It might have been her imagination, her terror breathing life into her senses, but it felt as though the creatures drew closer still. She could almost hear the heavy pants and growls between their mournful howls and feel their hot, slavering breath on the back of her neck. A nervous glance over her shoulder showed only moving flashes of grey fur and horrifying red eyes shining out of the shadows. She had gripped the metal railing to pull herself up when all seemed to fall away, the night going perfectly still.

A dark figure glided with unnatural grace through the mass of half-seen forms. The pack almost seemed to bow their shaggy, sharp-toothed heads before it, if Emma could at all reconcile that impression in her mind. One would almost believe they had been summoned.

The slim, dark, and sinister figure appeared before her, having reached her almost before Emma could mark his movement. Wearing a fine black cloak trimmed in thick fur and reaching almost to the ground, Emma saw little else but the flash of deep garnet in its lining and the glimmer of an evil, yet irresistible, smile. A pale hand reached out of the folds of the garment, outstretched to take hers in strangely formal greeting.

“I believe you are seeking me,” a sibilant voice nearly crooned.

Emma fought back a shudder at the sight of dagger-sharp nails at the end of long fingers somehow reminiscent of spider legs, pulling her into the web. She wanted to deny his claim, but all resistance failed her. What else could she do but allow the cold, dry hand to encase her own, and pull her forward through the wolves and dark and gathering mist? This was the nightmare she had come to find…

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @laschatzi

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @myfearless-love @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @lfh1226-linda

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @drowned-dreamer

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @resident-of-storybrooke @everything-person

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@goforlaunchcee @laianely @belovedcreation @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot

@grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

[regulusrules]

Hi! Okay so you seem like a very well-read person and I’d love to know if you have a list of your favorite Merlin fics. I just bookmarked all the ones you recommended in relation to the 10 best episodes and now I need more! I’m going on a training camp and would love to have something fairly long to download to my kindle so I can read on flights and when I don’t have data 🥰

Thanks so much in advance!

(Also, I LOVE your writing, I’m so glad to be part of this fandom with talented people like you!)

Hey! Thank you so much for your kind words! OF COURSEE I'd love to recommend you some fics! Likewise— the creativity of this fandom never ceases to amaze me :)

*cracks knuckles and pretends my eyes aren't lighting up rn because my time has finally come*

Long fic recs (50K-100K+)

1. to the world that never let you be by ImperialMint. Look. I'll hand out my own throat so willingly to any scar reveal fic. The trope is just so dear to my heart, and this one in particular was something else. It broadly covered every single feeling you might be looking for in a Merlin fic, and its characterization of both Arthur and Merlin was top tier. I basically sell my soul to any fic that does justice to their characterization, and this one did so much more than that.

2. What I'd Have Done by @flight-of-fantasy. I solemnly swear you will never read something like this fic. I read it in one day from how on edge I was all the time. I had to recount it to my friends in the timespan of three hours because of how much screaming and dramatic pauses there was. Simply, the brilliance of plot here is unmatched. Arthur's characterization as a strategist shook my innards, and Merlin's unapologetic nature was chef's kiss. It's so hard not to give away the plot while recommending this so just.. just read it.

3. Redemption by flakedice, Zerda. Soon, you will find a parallel post to the best 10 episodes with the worst 10, featuring first and foremost The Disir. Honest to God, I could literally go on ages ranting about how much agony this episode brought me. It was the blow that awoke my eyes to the possibility of fuck, this show isn't going to end well. I once thought about shitting on that episode like I did with 5×13 in My heart is readily yours, but fics like these hold me back because they already gave us everything. It gave us the ending we deserved. Gold. Everything in this was gold. The world building, the character development, the fact that Arthur has been given time. Truly a fix-it that fix-ed my heart.

4. Talking about deviations from The Fucking Disir, The World I Built for You by Fulgance is a must. It was the first fic I've read from the How They Didn't Find Out (magic reveal one-shots) series, and from then on I was * s o l d *. Whichever fic you decide to read from this, I guarantee you, you will have the time of your life. Fulgance is the one author I will always recommend without a shadow of a doubt. There is not a single work of theirs that will disappoint you. They will only break you.

5. Deep In My Heart I'm Concealing by @citharaposts. True story about this fic, I squealed when I read its summary. “I'm not standing here as a king, Merlin!” was the quickest catalyst to ever make me start a fic. I specifically wrote a spoiler-free comment for the author and left it in the first chapter so that anyone who's thinking about whether or not to go into yet another 100K fic will rest assured that it's an amazing ride. Have real fun with this one.

6. It Was One Kingdom, Once by queerofthedagger. Two things, if they happen, you leave everything behind and go thank your God for blessing you with it: @queerofthedagger posting a new Merlin fic, and it being a Royal Hanahaki AU. Like so many other tropes the author has nailed, this was the best Hanahaki I've ever read (across fandoms). It's so intricate and detailed and the world building is on another level. If our world was burning and I had only one thing to save, it'll be the works of this author.

Hope I helped, and hope you have so much fun in your camp!◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕

[Short fic recs]